Snapdragons transport me
back to Father’s gardens –
the pleasure of pinching
delicate floral lips
Forbidden, was I
tiny feet banished from
tiers of ordered colours –
how he worshipped those rows
Hours spent on knees,
as if in prayer… attention
lavished on nurturing growth
while I shrivelled on sidelines
Longed to dig beside him,
sully my hands and share
his passion, ignorant of
an inner drive to weed
Felt only walls of separation
the coldness of perfection,
so in my wilful way,
I rebelled against taboos
On tiptoe, stepped between
the bobbing arrangements
marred the well-tended soil
and pinched the snapdragons.
(Snapdragons first appeared here in March, 2018. Edited for this edition. Art my own)
One Woman's Quest 