I wish I could show him that,
Between the cracks of my bones,
Flowers are sprouting,
Inside the garden of sadness I once had.

Seven months have passed since I last visited,
What was once a home of loneliness and anguish,
For the last, huddled was I, on a rusting bench,
Absentmindedly watching salty droplets cascade to the ground.

With cheeks red and face damp,
My attention finally turned to the weeds blossoming in my oasis,
And though its weeds were beautiful to gaze upon at the time,
I realized that a garden without roses is like an ocean without fish,
                    Or a galaxy without stars,
            Or a sky without clouds,
   Or a heart without love,

And for that reason I deserted the deserted,
To find you.

Regardless of my infrequent visits,
To the garden between the crevices of my bones,
Loyal friends have visited in my absence,
To pluck away the weeds I used to stare at so lovingly,
                        And shower the land with seeds,
                 The ocean with fish,
            The galaxy with stars,
    The sky with clouds,
And my heart with love.

Though the scene brings tears to my eyes,
To gaze upon all that has changed,
I wish I could show him that,
Between the cracks of my bones,
Flowers are sprouting,
Inside the garden of sadness I once had.

(H.G.)