The Garden Of Life Poem by Maya Reid

After I put in my eight long hours today
Slumped against the sign at the bus stop
And trudged home on aching feet
A familiar sight greeted me:
My mother weeding her garden
Wearing her wide-brimmed hat
And gardening gloves
On her hands and knees
Rooting for the roots of those which crowd,
Clutter, and slowly but surely destroy her
Little patch of green
I thought about my day, my week, the last few months
And, watching my mother, I decided then and there
That I wanted to do the same thing,
Just on a bigger scale
She weeds her garden
I want to weed my life.
The bad bits from the past, with such deep roots
I want to hunt them down
One by one
Examine them, find their weak spots
(Rather than the other way around)
And dig them out, once and for all
I want to pull with a ferocity
That rids me of all the anger I hoard inside
I refuse to further nourish the sad parts
Watering them with my tears
And I’ll no longer shy away from the scary ones
Now they’ll have me to fear
But maybe this won’t be as easy as it seems
For while it’s easy enough to distinguish
Dandelion from daffodil,
Simple daisies aren’t really flowers,
So tell me…are you?
I need to put you into a category
Do you stay or do you go?
Because I could never forget you,
But forget-me-nots…they’re weeds too.
This time I can’t wait for you
To decide, to make up your mind
I just don’t have that kind of time
This time, the choice is mine
To dig up even the deepest roots and force you out
Or to declare you to be truly unforgettable,
A morning glory open and wonderful sometimes,
And closed the next…
A truly miraculous flower?
Is all the joy worth all the pain?
Could anything ever fill the hole you’d leave?
I need to know:
Are you a flower or a weed?