By Eve Lorgen
If I were a flower,
what would I be?
Fragrant and exotic,
needing much warmth and watering.
I’d live on a South Pacific island by the sea,
amongst croaking frogs and buzzing bees.
Thunder, lightning, wind and warm rain
are my only lovers that can truly sustain
the exotic life I was meant to be.
A merchant from the cold north sea,
gazed upon my petals and fell in love with me.
He transplanted me into a ceramic pot,
took me home with him, by the roots.
On a windowsill I sat and persevered the north’s seasons.
Breaking into joy during the short summer,
until the fall and winter freezings.
My leaves slowly withered and fell one by one.
My petals of bright color faded, until there were none.
A few seeds I dropped, yet they did not sprout.
I lost the desire for life, and wanted out.
The merchant watered me with distilled water,
he thought it was best and it wouldn’t matter.
What I really needed was the warm sunshine,
but that he couldn’t give me and thought I’d be fine.
While he was away on a business trip,
the flower angels of heaven carried me away on a ship.
I sailed far away while in a deep sleep,
awoke much later in the soils of a garbage heap!
The seeds that once fell in my ceramic pot
began to sprout when it was moist and hot.
My ceramic pot had cracked and was long gone.
My seeds scattered and I sang my exotic song.
The garbage heap became a Garden of Eden,
my fragrance and exotic life now had its freedom!
Home at last amongst my true loves,
who cuddled me with closeness in the warm tropic sun.
I wondered how my seeds ever survived
the north wind and the merchant –
who never even noticed I died.
The exotic flowers are my sheep
The earth is the garbage heap.
The sun and warm rain is my love.
The Garden of Eden is from above.