He sows, He reaps – He brushes past the instances of rolling buds and autumn heaps.
The misaligned creepers are set in line with the constellations and somehow, the ephemeral space makes it hard for them to breathe.
The Judgement day arrives in a pocketful of systematic hate until the garden becomes a miserable palace of weed.
He still sows – but there is no one to reap.
There are poets, here and there but He has built a wall of thorns that renders the seekers blind. Once their eyes start to bleed, the taste of their blood halts their spirit – it engulfs the hope of reaping the garden of faith.
I’ve been standing on the edge of this palace, they say yellow makes them happy but this palace of weed suffocates me – it also clings to my lungs, and calls itself my ‘Home’.
I lunge forward to blind myself, I really do but every single time I miss by a fraction of a sentence, a yawning poem stretching between my toes.
He sows – that awakened poem, that distracting sentence, that hopeful lunge / The Gardner has a season for every name, I wonder what mine is.
Rains/ a blackened sigh/ the ephemeral space/ the broken stars/ the melting clouds/ a stutter between the sunrise and the sunset – I’m an anomaly without a name.
I see, the uprooted garden and the enormous space. I breathe for the first time because I believe what I see. I believe what I seek.
The Gardner – that made me, you and the bellowing universe amidst a poetry of Creation, a scream of magnificence.
-Nameera Anjum Khan.
This poem takes inspiration from religion, particularly the depiction of God in the movie ‘The Shack’ which provides a brilliant and an optimistic insight into what kind of entity God really is. It also sheds light on how humans sometimes become the judge of events that they truly don’t understand. We become hopeless at the immediate sight of a bad circumstance, never once trying to grasp the meaning of divinity behind things.