burying the blame

i thought i had green thumbs. i fancied myself a tender caretaker; that i could take this darling bud to bloom. and so with hands both tiny and bare, i dug into the hard earth; scraping at soil until the rims of my nails were done-in with dirt. i wrestled with weeds and plucked the bugs and slugs from the ground. i shoveled away splintered sticks and sharp stones to prepare a place safe enough for a garden patch. and once it finally took root, i was overjoyed beyond measure. and my heart suffused with secret pleasure.

and so the days passed in eternal sunshine.

then one day the vines grew wild with thorny thoughts. and i sought to prune them with small shears; but in my bumbling lopped off in onerous chop the vein that fed the happy stalk. and by-the-by the flowering bud shut to shield itself from my withering touch. tangles of brambles shot up to obstruct my pursuit. and i felt like eve cast out of the garden for foolish mistake.

surrounded now by a wall of weeds, i thought upon a technique i once saw on television whereby you set the forest on fire and allow the flames to devour the entire plot. desperate, i lit a match to the lawn and stood back to watch, hoping this bold measure would pay off and clear the land (when really it was the air that needed clearing). but the smoke and embers were too hotly stoked and my eyes began to water.

fearful that i had done more damage than good, i fell to my knees in desolate response. and with downcast eyes sprinkled salty showers to flood the garden path. i wept a deluge for my sins to be forgiven. rained until my knees became bloody and raw.

and then i imagined an arc across your lips, a covenant smile like a sign to restore all the good that came before.

i'll be the first to admit it - i'm no good with mother nature. and i feel waist deep into manure at this point. but what i would like more than anything right now is to bury the blame and start again from seed.