A Basket Full of Burdock

A meadow was once filled filled with the most vibrant of colors-

Harebells and Asters

Goldenrods and Buttercups

Queen Anne's Lace and Clover

my soul thrummed with life.

buzzing

with the potential of young life.

tender as a new stalk in early spring

Infinitely Interconnected.

I drifted through your field

collecting the seeds of what you would teach me.

When

I wonder-

did you become

more burdock

than flowers?

Slowly you filled my meadow with burrs

seeding

my soul so that it would

one day look like yours.

15,000 seeds

one

of your trauma plants

could send out

I know one or three must have taken

root

drilling a tap root into the rich

humus of my soul

How many burrs have I sent out?

How many seeds have I hooked into another

that they must extract?

Because of a burdock I did not plant-

I am digging the burdock out.

pulling.

it.

out.

of what will be a lovingly tended garden

Some of your burrs still cling

I pull them and add then to the basket

of burdock.

Once there was a wild meadow here

filled with

Asters and Harebells-

Goldenrod and Mullen-

Trillium and Clover-

Now, a conscious garden sprouts

Black Calla Lily and Night Rider Lily-

Roses and Foxgloves-

Belladonna and English Yew-

Elegant and Dangerous.

The Soul

no longer innocent and defenseless.

look around and soon the only

evidence

that you ever tread

here-

will be the discarded

basket of burdock.