Cultivator
2022-05-20

***

We're coming up on the end of the Eschaton, you and I,
and for almost a year I've planned for next month to die.
But it's impossible to plan for every contingency.
What are we to do if May passes and I'm still living?

I've kept this faith secret in me, learned every way to hide
and still let through a sliver of this lightning kept inside.
There's so much love you've planted in this garden that's my body
that perhaps, if I stand still enough, others will see my wings.

In the birds that convened outside my window
gathered in a flock until they took flight,
in the blackened tree branches that scraped
against an ashen gray sky,
in the first blooms and blossoms
of my garden in birthing spring:
if it was good and beautiful, I saw you in everything.

***

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
