My garden grew
But only because my maple tree died
The tree cracked, split into three pieces
So I wouldn’t have to
She embodied my pain, the brokenness inside
The shrinking and the growing
That sometimes breaks you
The ice that threatens to take over
The tree cracked as a warning:
Don’t you crack, too!
Look at me!
Wait.
Wait.
It’s not near perfect
It has the most weeds of any garden around
But you did tend to it just a little bit
The sun didn’t have to work as hard to help the flowers grow
(Now that the maple tree is gone)
No leaves stood in the way
The rays had no obstacles, just a straight shot
To the flowers the bees love so much
You cultivated what you could
What you had time for
What you allowed space for
A few bright flowers grew
It wasn’t much
But it was close to enough
by Melinda Haas
September 15, 2022 at 11:45 AM
Your beautiful poem shines light exactly as the sun does on your growing hope garden. 💕
September 15, 2022 at 1:58 PM
I am unsure as to why, but I felt emotional reading this ❤️ Like – look, you tried and your try is beautiful and because of your try you grew. This is how I interpreted. No idea if it’s actually. Loved it.
September 16, 2022 at 8:23 AM
🥰