Beach roses, a plethora of them just near the entrance,
a lovely meticulous thing,
tucked under the grey cloud— there is a warmth to them,
there is a warmth to them still, as events replay themselves
in my paper cut heart.
When speaking of resilience, bristlecone pine comes to mind;
forever withstanding the test of time,
as the sun continues to melt the day away,
how does she do it?
How, despite harsh conditions does she stand tall, fresh tears
in my eyes every night right before bed.
Reach out, through the haze and through the smoke,
difficult to read
and even more so to discern, inside my garden gate,
words rising up from the ashes to the sky, forming poetry,
just add love, this world is so much and yet so little
at the same time.
A friend of mine often asks of seeds, seeds of doubt
which long should have been ousted out,
and though it isn’t hard for me to rein in these thoughts,
I stumble and falter—there is so much that requires attention:
soak your roots, water mindfully,
be brutal with weeds, it’s written on my hand, it’s engraved upon
my rebellious soul.
Meet me before the apocalypse takes place,
feisty and soft
but stronger than before, the kind of individuals we’d hoped
to be can’t be forgotten or replaced,
moonbeams in our eyes, come let us plant all that can persevere,
until the dawn arrives, inside my garden gate; my garden gate; my garden gate.
Photo credits: Summer flowers and cups by Daniel Keys, Pinterest
Claudia is our lovely hostess tonight at dVerse Pub where she invites
us in for a bit of garden poetry writing. Come join us! 💝
Inspired by the title of Susan C Walkinshaw-Kelly’s poetic masterpiece,
“Inside my Garden Gate.”