From Her Backyard
By Aleeza Sarfaraz
She stands on her tiptoes
And looks over the fence
To admire her neighbours’ roses.
A dizzying rush of scent
Fills her up with awe.
Their garden is in full bloom
With soft lilies, tulips and daisies
Chirping cicadas and trickling flumes
Dandelions dancing in the breeze
Floor carpeted with past autumns leaves.
She looks back down
And heaves a wistful sigh
Nothing crawls on the ground-
No colours in sight.
Deafening silence…
No resounding crunch beneath her feet
Only the stench of rotting leaves.
From her backyard, she stares all-day
At the rising pile of decay
Time for her is frozen
No buds grow here, nothing shifts
Her garden is dead and barren
Still, she waters and waits in dismay.
The neighbour’s sprinkler is on
Thick droplets fall on their flowers.
Her touch-me-nots are shrivelled and gone.
Her garden has no seasons, no showers-
No regeneration, no growth, no hope.
As she sits defeated among the tall weeds
She curses the drought
That found its way to her.
“It’s so unfair!” She shouts,
Strangers on the street gasp at her
She is creating a scene.
But what do they know?
Everything in their pretty little gardens grows.
She carefully puts flower pots in place
Where her soil is scarred and defaced.
Each morning she wakes and prays,
“Tomorrow, Maybe, Someday…”
Desperation breeds new faith
And she turns to a new god today.
She is starved
For the soft touch of petals
The flashes of bright yellow hues
The embrace of a familiar scent
Longing, slaving, craving-
“I’m trying, God, I’m trying-“
But everything is still dying.
Frustrated, she throws down the spade
And rips out the wild grass and weeds
“Look- that woman is mad!
Who does that to their own garden?”
Grief grips her as she rakes out the buried past
Slowly, Painstakingly, One by one,
The tangled branches come undone
“I’m broken” she cries out at last.
Where does this pain come from?
And where should it go?
She tries to stand, and steps on a caterpillar
A sickening sound of agony
“I’m sorry” she whispers,
They look on, worried — “This is not like her”
She hates being out here, in the ugly open
Exposed- the naked branches, shivering
The creeping eyes, the pitying frowns follow her
She stumbles and snaps a twig
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” she weeps.
People are gathering around to watch now
“She’s putting on a show”
Bare soil, bare bodies, bare-bones
Nothing here will ever grow
So where does this pain go?
