Enter the morning sun.
I opened my eyes and saw the garden.
This garden, I knew not of tending,
but had grown wild and verdurous.
All these wonders — blades of grass,
ferns, shrubs, bushes, flowers, trees —
turn their bodies towards the sun
in a graceful, poised arabesque.
Dancers celebrating the brilliance of life.
They did not just spring from the ground.
They live so that I can breathe,
so that I have something to see,
so that I have something to nurture,
and something to emulate.
This garden I must have tended
and then I must have forgotten
still yields a lush and verdant bounty
that knows no price and has a value
that is immeasurable in quantity.
This is why the morning has come,
this is why I wake and why I leave
the safe confines of my room.
This garden has taught me how to live:
To choose fertile ground,
to pull the weeds
from the earth by hand,
to take root,
and then be unafraid
to bask in the glory
of the sun.
Todays featured poem is by Wanggo Gallaga, a writer and poet from the Philippines. To us, this speaks volumes about a feeling of having been being lost and alone in the world, reaching outward toward beauty, and then realising that to experience, one must take the step and live, whatever the cost. It’s an incredibly beautiful poem, well constructed and has a good measured use of meter. We feel that this is, at it’s core, a very positive and human piece of work.
You can find Wanggo online here: http://wanggo.wordpress.com/
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