My Garden I

I grew a garden,

In grief I sunk to the ground,

With my fingers, I dug at the earth,

The pain was alarming, blinding,

Forming scales over my eyes.

The pain I experienced,

Beyond salvageable,

Still, my fingers dug

And I poured out the contents of my heart into the soil,

I planted the seeds of my grief,

I buried them there, my fingers raking the heaped earth over the seeds

And a storm began, the ducts burst,

Out of my eyes, a storm raged.

It watered my earth

And my pain brought forth a garden.

I grew a garden,

Inadvertently.

My Garden Part II, to  be continued...