i wish i could garden
from my concrete walls.
could i spread my petals
from between window panels?
does thorns pierce
through manmade
as easily as he pierced through my heart?
if heartbreak could be cultivated
and harvested,
spritzed with pesticides
and doused in the misery-
mist of polluted lies and
boys who swear they know
what they are doing,
would my tomatoes taste as ripe?
flowers lift and carry an important
weight on their stems.
strong
and resilient through
the times, through
the splashes of blood
of resurrections,
through the dank of
misery,
and the blights that
comes from the hidden
depth of my mind;
will my garden grow
from the fifth floor?
ropes of metal
stand before me and nature;
why do we build houses
out of the earth’s core?
don’t they know steel
courses through me;
like-calls-to-like
but we fear robotics
and change yet we embrace
the earth’s gift
as easily as he took my heart,
crumpled it, and sprinkled it
over my garden like fertilizer.
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 