Home 3A Poem by redzone….***….Home 3
Well, it finally stopped raining, the sun is burning away morning mist and fog, disappearing, then appearing again as it rises in the sky. The garden survived with most plants growing and greener; it seems they loved their time in the wet. So too, did the weeds.
Weeds are sturdy things, survivors, and if allowed, will over run a garden. Weeds will spread, unless you pull out their roots.
So, I began to think about roots. Roots and Home. Is homme our roots; or is home where we spread too? Kunta Kinte was up rooted from his home, stripped of his culture, language, whipped and beaten, shackled as if he wasn’t human, and brought here to these shores. He and millions more were forced to make a new home with deep roots. A home that has many such “weeds”.
It is strange to realize almost all the flowers we see were once weeds, growing wild, and wildly, creating vivid, colorful landscapes, even before humans altered their DNA with hybrids. But then, humans are also hybrids, Cross pollinated over time’s eons.
But home and roots have many such stories. As I work on the garden, pulling out weeds by their roots, my thoughts turn to you (something I am unable to stop). The home you seek, and the way your life has spread out with deep roots; how your interaction with the world around you has created a colorful vista. A vista with wild and wildly exciting flowers; like the way lilies are white, poppies red, roses pink, and tulips yellow, all once growing freely everywhere.
As I finish in the garden, I realize again, I love my fingers in the soil and that my roots too have spread, they also have led me back home. And realize my garden would be better with a flower like you in it, growing, spreading, taking root making everything bright.
Aztec Warrior/redzone 7.26.18 © 2018 redzoneAuthor's Note
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