Blooming on the Barbed Wire

 

Blooming against the fence. Blooming on barbed wire.

It's not the stuff of dreams, not the heart's desire.

But still it does its best. The blooms are profuse.

Not all plants find the sun, nor can pick and choose.

 

Blooming against the wall. In constrained spaces.

Not all transplants happen in ideal places.

But still it's sent down roots. And it's climbed the wall.

It must use what's given or not grow at all.

 

The wire for all its barbs does support the climb.

The wall's six feet high, sunlight's a narrow time.

It's clawed its way up and soared into the light,

and it's now bloomed, sent you its message in white.

 

Be you the barbed wire, be you the vine that flowers

in the poorest of earths, with meagre sunlight hours.

It's been an amazing week and a month. Our young people have been unstoppable and inspirational. Much to learn from them - they've not just fixed our devices, they're fixing the bugs in our lives as well. Kudos, bachchalog! Keep it up. 

Someplace Else...

 

Seasons come on timid tiptoes over here –

a sudden spurt of green in a pavement crack,

a roof terrace splashed with bougainvillea,

your balcony hibiscus makes a comeback.

 

They’re all cultivated, but just imagine

distant places in some different hemisphere,

a different ocean and a tide rolling in,

far off plaintive birdsong nestled in your ear.

 

There the rain’s on open grounds and petrichor

weaves its heady perfume into the winds

silver rain drops into its own metaphor.

It’s not the season you’ve ever imagined.

 

There’s no timid green spurt, no paved surfaces,

just the earth, rains, you and the wildernesses.

Rather a lot of things are awry in my world right now,  well, not my world only, I'm not in favour of one individual hogging the world, but you know what I mean. It's been going on for sometime - the war sending the fuel prices into a spiral, routine misogyny and crimes against women, daylight robbery in high places under the patronage of political bigwigs, all kinds of mixed messages from officialdom and so on ad nauseam. 

I avoid the news like the plague but sometimes some trivial nonsense turns out to be the last straw :) Something like that happened last week,  I vented on FB  and a close friend advised me to look up and out at the nature all around - always restorative. 

Now I am physically at a place that reminds me of this song here, though I have to confess I've never seen a single lilac blooming in the wild, the flowers are all different but the emotions are universal. Anyway, I followed my friend's advice the best I could through poetry, the most excellent escape route out of a blue funk and a bridge between having and not having and magicking mood switches out of thin air. Phew! 

I hope your season is going well and you're at a place from which there's absolutely zero need to escape.