The Gardener

I want to share this beautiful poem with you.  Written by my own daughter for me on Mother’s Day.  The Gardener~

Here she comes,
Upright and joyful,
Head high and singing
She waltzes gaily in the world.

Here she stands
Hands on hips
Eyes firm and steady
A queen surveying her land.

Rolling up her sleeves
She sets about her work
Determined,
Steadfast.

Taking the seeds from her pocket
She smiles as she sees their nothingness,
For she knows what they will become.

Silently she grabs her tools
Relentlessly she breaks up the soil,
Planning the location of each seed,
She tenderly sets them in their beds of earth.

Happily she sets out feeders for the birds
She smiles as they come to play
She revels in their song and dance.

Children on her hips she laughs
Pointing out the beauties of the world,
The seedlings she has planted show off their Merry leaves in the bright sunlight.

The children grow one after the other,
Taking always taking.
The woman doesn’t mind
She gives freely
Glad to see them grow,
She rejoices when they are happy,
She comforts when they weep.

Still she tends her garden.
Watering each flower with her tears,
Saturating the air with her prayers.

Bending on her knees
She pulls the weeds out from around me.
I grow my leaves in shades of green
Just to see her smile
I unfurl my petals hoping their bright colors will restore her vibrancy
I watch as she gives herself away.

There is no applause,
No thanks, no recognition
No chorus of praise.
Just the silence as she tends her garden,
Beads of sweat dripping off her graceful chin.

I see the way she watches the birds
I see how their dance brings her laughter bubbling forth
Still I cannot say my thanks.
I cannot voice in words
How much she has loved
How much she has lived,
But all I can do is bring the birds.

I try to comfort her with my petals
But she does not hear it.
I try to rejoice with her by reaching higher to the heavens
But she does not understand,
I speak thanks in words she does not know.

Her beauty has not ceased,
Her fire has not dimmed
She shines as stars confined to earth,
Her heart beats a rhythm of joyful song
She is a flower I could never be.

I see who she is,
The tenderness of her planting,
The love of her giving,
I see.
I see what no one else can see
And wish to share this treasure with the world.

To tell you what you mean to me
Oh how I wish I had the words,
But at the very least
I’ll bring you birds.

The Gardener by Lauren A. Nielsen