my story

it's strange, isn't it, when you discover
part of self
it can be unveiled
unclouded
here to fore undetermined
in the admiration of another
self
I've long claimed Five Whole Sisters
but left for later
discarded as remnants
parts of my self
One Whole Self

I'll lay your shame to the side, Dear Heart,
sweet hand, long suffering, beautiful maiden,
so my little garden can grow
my sun garden
set down the shaded, veiled Truth
Let the Sun Shine On My Garden

Like a precious flower, I have Mother Earth to nurture me,
and the Heavens and the wind to help me bloom.
Family and Gardens and Self
they come in every sort and shape and hue.
My Story suits me, Hydrangea and Hyacinth and Lupine.