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
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