My Garden III

“I feel unspeakably lonely. And I feel - drained.”
Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters

Head lifted up, the clouds are grey, gloomy

Dark clouds form a chain, hurdling together, Stratus

As though intentionally wanting to keep the light out

Like my need to perpetuate my misery

I look down, my knees will take a long time to heal

But that is insignificant, 

My heart begins to race

No, not now, not again

Eyes shut, breathe in, 2,3, 4, 

hold, …4, 5, 6, 7, breath out, …6, 7, 8

Again, again, again and again.

Now, to walk the distance ahead of me, to behold my creation,

Bountiful as it were, I am terror-stricken,

Briars and thorns,  

But the Lily of the valley guides me,

I stop at a pond and peak at my reflection,

Formidable me.

At the edge of the pond are weeds,

I notice pest species I’m oblivious to

I look around for the weeding tools, there is non in sight

I feel a presence, I look around and am engulfed in confusion

It becomes apparent as I stare at a possible answer to my questions

My garden, this place, my clouds, my heart, my wounds.

How? What is this place? How did I get here? How has it been?

"I am often questioning myself what I further want to do, who I further wish to be; which parts of me, exactly, are still functioning properly. No answers, darling. At all."

― Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters

To be continued....