The Garden

I seeded my thoughts with deep ambitions,

and sowed my dreams –

a mental garden of wild needs,

planted in brain’s curiosity.

I delved into my inner stores

of mind loops, and twisted seams,

and I sifted and plowed,

unearthed my inner tree,

overgrown with anxiety and

choked by pain’s varicosity.

An endemic that I could not fight,

I recalled a cold and fateful night

when I stared deep into the eyes

of a joker’s pride,

a mirror in the form

of my own mind.

The game was set,

the stakes were high.

My Queen was checked,

and so was I.

I nearly died

the night I faced my mental ties,

files of wounds compart-mental-ized –

But then

a voice so soft did say,

to journey to the heart and stay,

to leave behind the fickle mind,

to let go and heal this time.

Just let go,

and heal this time.

Just let go.

My breath became a windchime.

And the song of my soul

started toning my garden.

Tombs of old wounds

rose from the dead

And at the core,

from my mother’s womb,

grown by my father’s seed,

were invasive weeds

that they didn’t pull before having me.

So I put my shovel to work

and unrooted them all,

dug and dug while I let my tears fall.

Generations of rooted systems

crumbled beneath my trowel,

and a new crop was fed

with forgiveness,

and I spread out the new saplings

in rows of love.

And I tended my garden.

I tended my home.