We were a heap of debris stacked nearly five feet high. Broken branches, trimmed hedges, brown leaves, even a few pulled up weeds. The ruins of our yard. The clippings of old growth sheared off love. We felt a little gasoline would help. And next we knew, Fire, Fire, Fire, Roaring up toward the sun. Rippling waves of heat. Forcing us to step back and watch our garden turn to ash. Remember Ishtar was enslaved in the fires of the underworld. Yet the waters of life were sprinkled upon her head as she danced with bells past the seven veils. Her bosom was filled with precious stones. So too, the apple tree blooms, while the rose buds open, and honey bees pirouette. In the instrumental breeze, in the harmony of spring, tiny sprouts of wild grass pop out of the ash. And so too, even I must ask, Will this love outlast the pain?
Tags: apple tree, blooms, bosom, clippings, fire fire fire, five feet, grass pop, hedges, honey bees, ishtar, little gasoline, pirouette, precious stones, rose buds, seven veils, sprouts, turn to ash, waters of life, weeds, wild grass