He Had Always

savoured the roses in the garden especially the climbing variety because they had no bounds and therefore represented the wild passion of change the juice of fresh blackberries ran down as he picked and imbibed them consumed by their nature he never minded the prickly thorns scratching at his skin and his soul yet calluses on his hands and mind sometimes took him to a darker place and the undergrowth would not shelter a numb kind of restlessness from a peace not to be had but he had always been able to salve the wounds sometimes picked at the scars as if to remind himself that he was frightfully alive calendula gave him respite chamomile reminded him of the healing power of patching up sores that appeared out of nowhere and out of somewhere only to be seen through that lens of refraction reflection and parallel consciousness as he trenched through the soil his hands a trowel and fingers and rake he minded the earthworms which sooner or later would decompose what was left 16th May 2023