My Secret Garden

In my secret garden,
The flowers speak to me,
Begging me for sunshine and rain in equal parts,
They ask me to nourish my soul,
With their fragrant rebellion,
Singing Hallelujah,
With every step I take toward them.

In my secret garden,
There are bees at every turn,
Sucking nectar from my talking flowers,
And each wish me a good day,
In proper English style,
Tilting their antennae,
Pointing the way,
For me to advance.

In my secret garden,
A snake,
Less that subtle,
Tempts me to eat the fruit,
And angrily shouts,
When I say the same thing each day,
I will not submit.

In my secret garden,
The cobblestones,
All giggle with delight when barefoot I walk over them,
Each saying that today is a new day,
Can you feel the suns blessings on your flesh?

In my secret garden,
The poisonous venom,
That tried to eat away my soul,
Now becomes the fall of rain,
That pleases my not so secret friends.

SDM

Truth and Poison

I feel the truth like poison seeping into our water table.
From the ground water we drink this tainted reality as half truths from the past are coming back to take their final due and there can be no escape.
These half lies, half truth, have served to stunt our collective consciousness lulling us into a very false sense of security.
It has weaved its way into our every day brought to us by those that seek to fatten their pockets not enrich the global brother and sisterhood.

I feel the truth, at least half, like arsenic, slowly stunting my nervous system until I am numb and desensitized so that when 100% truth is given (which is rare) I am somehow more ready to deal with it.

I’d like my truth like I like my water;

Fresh, clean and the source of life’s affirmations.

SDM