Another poem which I’m planning to place in the book Letters from the Garden.
I walked into the garden through rows of tomatoes.
Bees dancing through pollen quarries, the soil alive
with each dying breath of silk-green leaves like
chloro-lungs, playing with the air.
Islands of peppers and cucumbers content
in their soils, hungry for abundant growth
And quenched with the loving waters of a
Python hose or white clouds, which forbade darkness
And only reveal sunlight and better days.
But this was yesterday.
Today, rows of tomatoes clench onto their cages
As if climbing through the tops to escape starvation.
Roots wither and dry as the soil crackles and leaves
Its children to die.
Islands become planes as desolate wastelands become
All that is left of a lost garden.
I hold onto the weeds that strangle the any life
That had once been left in this place. But the fields of
Dead peppers finally gasp for breath and fade to gray
Like the rifle smoke which stains the empty walls
Leaving us with nothingness.
What is Tomorrow?
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