My fears are a well-tended garden,
flowerful, redolent, manicured…
Indeed, completely at home,
I know these paths well,
worn and treaded steadily in bare feet
among rows of shocks of violent hues
and delicate memory.
You don’t believe me?
I’ve invested a whole life here.
Ask and I can furnish you
any bouquet imaginable,
presented season-perfect and timely.
Would you think to save me
from these confines? To spare me
the burdens of this enclosure?
Your efforts would fall short,
like song lost to wind.
But not to worry, now or evermore…
There is a secret to share—
It is not I that is enclosed, but the fears
that are enclosed within me.
The burden that I myself lifted has been set down,
and now the garden is just that—
a trove of memory and life brought forth,
a place that I can safely take you,
a solitude that is mine to share,
such care have I put in.
But better yet, invite me to your garden…
I’m sure the views are as resplendent.
All you need do is ask
and we’ll share the last rays of daylight
when the flames of a setting sun
slowly fade behind cloud and waterline.
And when sleep comes later
we may dream our lives anew,
no longer strangers to the places within us.