The Vows We Break

Sunflower seeds in the ground, violets everywhere, and a garden ready for more. What is natural versus what is cultivated. But what is the gestalt of life? Nowadays, there is no more “getting,” and “having” is on the way out the door.

Morning breaks with gray-green light, muted by pending storms. I see cardinals less but hear them everywhere. Orioles, red bellied woodpeckers, and warblers. Orange and purple wildflowers have become arrows loosed towards the sun. The garden waits ready for the next round of vegetables and herbs.

All the true vows. All the secret vows. Perhaps it is only the ones we speak, we break. For a woman, secrets really come down to power. Like anyone marginalized or kept from autonomy and power for too long, women will keep the tender truth of themselves secret until it is safe. The world may suffer. You may have suffered. Be thankful for that instead of her wrath.

Somehow we humans have chosen to divide ourselves: male, female; strong, weak; producer, taker; nationalist, foreigner. It is all passed off in the name of progress or efficiency at best. At worst, we label some humans as “right” and “wrong” unto death. The ramifications of this are personal of course, but they are also cosmic. We have disturbed our position in animal kingdom to a pernicious degree.

Maybe that is what my garden is about; maybe knees in the dirt and sweat in my eyes; sweat dripping from my third eye back into the ground; maybe it all is a long and sorrowful psalm lamenting what we have done and hoping a small offering will convey a kernel of peace.