Remembering from no memories I consciously have
I prepared the soil.
I prepared the soil.
Beating clumps of mud from dead potted plants, scorched by the
ghastly heat of the summer’s sun. Pulverizing back to powder, mixing with
rich, black, moist compost, I prepared the soil.
I prepared the soil to start all over again.
This time planting desert roses.
Feeding on the dry heat of a heartless sun
they let their hearts flower on their skin.
they let their hearts flower on their skin.
The contrast of the opening stayed with me. And the repetition!
ReplyDeleteThanks :)
Deletethe last two lines reminded me of wearing one's heart on one's sleeve, and, with that sensitivity, the restraint expressed in the whole poem along with the determination that the soil must be prepared no matter what, stood out for me. liked the lines, "Beating clumps of mud from dead potted plants" and "Pulverizing back to powder" especially.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
ReplyDelete