If My Body Is A Garden

If my body is a garden

then I must tend each growing thing

with measured care

and equal love

for every bit of me

For within this plot of land

between my scalp and tip toes

is a wilderness

of weeds and seeds

that I have never planted

I must water every rose I find

marveling the soft of each resilient petal

borne from thorns

that stung me once

but helped my flowers grow

I’d find self-doubt in sunflowers

their constant strives to turn towards light

seeking confirmation

that their face, too,

is worthy of its warmth

And sometimes I’d find where weeds had grown

no doubt dropped by careless passersby

who found dark corners

in my curves

I hadn’t quite farmed through

But my favorite spot in me would have to be — without a doubt

the wildflowers forming the vibrant colors of my heart

randomly seeded

by everyone

that I’ve come to know and love

-M.M.Gooden