The sun beat down
On the back of my neck
As I dug a hole in the garden,
And with a harsh hand
I cradled my heart,
Placed it in the soil
Wondering idly how
It felt so cold in this weather.
I waited for spring.
Predictable yet disappointing,
While around it colors exploded,
Wildflowers, native flowers, exotic flowers,
Apparently everything can grow,
As long as it has nothing to do with me.
I stare out my window everyday,
Hope rising with the sun
And falling with a crushing swiftness,
Because all I want is to shed
Just a little bit of beauty on this world.
One day my mom looks at my garden,
She points to the vacant spot
Where I buried my heart as tribute,
And said that flower was spectacular,
Which, despite the fact that she’s always
Seen things that don’t exist, was confusing,
Nothing was there, of that I was sure.
Yet maybe beauty only shows itself
To those who are actually willing to see it,
I don’t know, it’s a philosophical idea
That I don’t want to grapple with,
But maybe, just maybe,
There is something there.
And maybe, just maybe,
I might one day get to see it.