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Saw you on your knees.

Hands in the earth, the gardening prayer.
Willing to life the seeds of new beginnings:
The dirty humble birth of green things
That will grow and change and replenish and die.

The unconscious mockery was not lost on me.

Digging nests, crumbling burnt-ochre soil,
Artificial rain, soothing pats.
Now for the fledgling trees waiting their turn.
You took up the shovel and innocently set to work,
Although only I knew what you were
Really digging for yourself.

I was patient.

For nature is always outdone by unnatural things.
That is only – natural.
But was it any consolation
That in your death,
You have nourished your garden…
As well as me?

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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6 Comments

  1. I knew I hated gardening for a reason =)

  2. Murderer! 😛

    • Your powers of deduction are remarkable…

        • Blackredbluefire
        • Posted April 16, 2010 at 1:27 am
        • Permalink

        I try.. 😉

  3. This has such a cold, malevolent feel to it. I shivered. Love it. You have so much beauty buried in that dark heart of yours…I know, I’m not supposed to say that but eh, fuck it.

  4. Terribly amazing poem…


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