My Memory Garden

OUT! OUT! DAMNED THORNS!

Some memories — good & bad alike — you need to root out

Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on. Eckhart Tolle

I.
The roses
in my most secret garden of memories
are so mean-spirited they bite.

Studded, spiked stalks and branches
shredding
the self-confident thick or thin layers
I sweater within.

Steel jawed traps masticating
any aged spots of fleshed out hope
I expose.

I weed, I prune.

All I have wanted
is to help
those antique beauties thrive.

But today
I seek
my pink shovel.

I am
at last
in the pink;

It’s your turn –
serpentine spiraling tormentors –
to be banished
from the Garden.

Dumped. Composted
into Wisdom.

II.

the be-flowered cat deflowered by joy,
collared with green starlight
and virginal wind chimes.
Tail mooning
as I let go

and leap

tales more deeply
into the quintessence
of Love,

my lover.
Truth, climax
and endless end.

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