A Garden in a Flat
I am a child of the open wild
of flowers and ferns with different blooms and hues.
I am a child of the open wild
of cloudless skies and golden sunsets.
Sparkling streams and prancing fauna
I was once the queen of my lair.
A long time ago I came to the city
to seek my silk and fortune
In a cocoon layered with milk
And feathers, I’ve found my trove
but among its comfort, too
my treasures have turned to turmoil
Potted plants – hibiscus, cactus and river lilies
lay about my flat – stunted, limp and morose
I can feel their sadness, their unspoken accusation
River lilies and wild cactus rarely bloom well in shade!
Like me, my plants are children of the open wild
permanently trapped in gloom.
I could pack-up, go back;
nudged on by dreams of sparkling rivers
and sun-dried baobab seeds;
but my acquired comforts serenade my senses:
like salt fused with pepper, entangled
cementing my disconnect.
So, memories of a bygone paradise are all I have left.
Jammed in sinews and pink-dotted atoms
they row – in frustration, a DNA gone amok.
The jangle of the street trams and fumes from exhaust pipes,
like mocking birds in full flight,
they rattle, rant and remind me
that I am a child of the open wild
surrounded by a garden in pots.
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