the gift

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the gift

not everything is coming up
roses and daffodils--
but it is more often than not
here on fertile ground
that is sacred to me
sometimes i am wounded
too deeply because there are battle scars
that are still healing--
i am a veteran of the childhood wars
but you have made the most beautiful garden for me
a place where i can thrive with you
and we don't need money
we don't need much
just as it is now, even when i am all sick
i am caught off guard again
with another surprise from you--
you give me gifts that are invisible
much more valuable than gold
you have made me a garden here
that i can explore
and it is wild and overgrown
and lush like i like it
imaginary birds here
in this garden
inspire songs
and they get inside of me
and i never forget what they meant
as they flew out of your heart
and sang when you could not speak
for just a day...because maybe you were waiting
and listening to silence
a silence that is fertile ground
a sacred silence where the songs form