the gardener

i am this gardener. i have this small, insignificant patch. but it is all i have. i wish so dearly for it to flourish. carefully, i sow seeds. i watch as some grass shows, curiously peeping towards the sky. i try to encourage coriander and basil to spur a herb garden. one day i hope for a vegetable garden, and also for splashes of colour from flowers whose great beauty would leave the world speechless.

i want to share this garden. to show it. to sit with someone on the bench and admire and daydream in silence. to even have someone tend it with me.

but it is so fragile. the slightest gust of wind, the slightest breath of sand from the desert outside, and it shrinks, shrivels, dies.

and so i build this glass bubble around it. that is the only way i know to keep it safe. that is the only way i know to avoid the pain. i keep trying to cultivate these dreams within this protective shield. retreated, a failure, alone in denial. hiding this garden from the world all the while wishing for another gardener alongside me.