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letra de anne, the gardener - nat johnson

let out like a scream, you don’t fit with the scheme; an orange hawkweed
among the blues and yellows, the bells and primrose that line the way home
where you’re drawn, by-and-by, by invisible tie, a hand in the sky
you’ve been gritting your t–th until your release, and you stole truth like a thief

sister, lay your burdens on the table
in a bundle of blooms let them grow
twisting tendrils, oh tormentil your roots running over
to the edge; your wrеtched vetch stretching out, hеading boldly
down the table leg to flagstone bed
your honest seeds are sown

now like your own self before watch them climbing the walls
build your trellis according to new rules
try to train them in lines, prune the faith-strangling vines
come forwards

sister, grow your garden
though your soil is pure and giving, your work’s never done
every harebell you get ringing they hide from the sun
every yellow rattle shaken, selfheal nettle-stung
but wear your foxgloves with that perfect love, don’t hold your adders-tongue:

you tell us curl up, dear creatures, beside the fire at night
while you hedge this heaven’s pleasures to indulge your appetite
but here in the garden you must walk a straighter edge
you can really smell the roses if you cut back the excess
there’s an expansive future like the scarborough sea
with all its hope and possibility
and dew from my sister gives my plants their yorkshire tea
untasted, unsalted, unkept inspiring me
and the breath of my sister to spread my sprouting seeds
“taking our plans
in our own hands
working the land”

- nat johnson

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