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Inherited Garden

Patience, darling, in the dark,

mother’s planting fathers snark.

Ancients line your rust and blood,

placating family, built in mud.

Growing, finding, feeling, tremor

breaks the surface, sings in tenor.

Am I in you? You, in me?

Reaching roots, the family tree.

Weeds will grow here, mind confusion,

garden paths twist to occlusion.

Where the wax steps call me upward;

blood moon waning unobstructed.

In our garden water wisely,

trust your minds eye, timid, blindly;

tiny gods in ground all ushered

to the surface, flowering mustard.

Faith in Mother, faith in self,

step into body, fill with delph.


 
 
 

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