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Thursday, September 29, 2005

Ever Waiting


How can you walk into the garden of life
And trample on the neatly laid out beds of habit?
Or pluck the buds from struggling trees
Of thoughts grown dearer than human companionship:
And plant within its centre the image of yourself?

Is it because you know
That you are all the habit I have?
That in all learning I am untaught
Save in what you shall teach me?
For, if I am, then what I am I know not...
Unless I be a vacuum waiting, ever waiting.

Then Love, if you must come
Tread softly thru' the garden of my life.
Touch not, nor break the buds that fragrance lend:
But graft them with that other self of mine
Which is you.

(Shana Yardan in A Treasury of Guyanese Poetry)

Posted by jebratt :: Thursday, September 29, 2005 :: 0 comments

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