Heavy and Weightless

perception is reality

The garden holds all kinds of flowers.

Mother was a belladonna:

Sweet but entirely poisonous.

Dad was a touch-me-not.

One destroyed everything she touched

And the other shrank away from

Even the softest hints of intimacy.

My sisters exist in these

Very specific ways.

One is a venus flytrap,

A being built for consumption.

The other is a cactus,

She lingers in absolute isolation.

There are roses or wildflowers and fungi.

Trees of all varieties even.

Shrubs, grasses, weeds.

Most people are cross pollinated.

Mother is a jacaranda, she blooms.

Father is sativa, he heals.

My sisters- they are great strong trees.

One a willow who comforts

Others with her shade.

The other, a wise redwood. She knows.

The garden is intricate.

Every piece has layers

And the picture is incomplete

Without respect to each and every detail.