Unveiling the Hidden Power of Resurrection: Christine Emmert’s Poem That Will Change How You See Life Forever
Ever paused to consider how a garden could almost eavesdrop on nature’s whispers? It’s as if the elephant ears aren’t just plants, but eager listeners unfurling their green antennae to the soft insistence of birds serenading the morning air. And what about those grapes—promising harvests tied delicately to the summer sun’s slow, warming patience? This poem doesn’t just show a garden growing; it chronicles life’s rhythmic ballet of arrivals and farewells, the vibrant chorus of poppies yielding to day lilies, the tiny insect minstrels ticking off their ephemeral moments. It’s a reminder—through every bloom, every dying leaf, and the quiet clutch of stars overhead—that resilience is stitched deeply into the seasons, just as it is in us. Makes you wonder: if gardens have stories spun in light and shadow, might we be listening all wrong? Dive in and let this piece grow on you.
The elephant ears are ready to listen,
unrolling more each day to bird’s insistent call.
The grapes promise they will come
once the rain is dried off in summer’s slow warmth.
Again my garden grows.
Poppies give way to day lilies and then
a profusion of blossoms less exclusive.
Busy insects mark off the seconds of their short life
in singing.
I have lasted through many resurrections
and many dyings of the seasons.
At night when the garden closes down
stars prevail on high, reminding me that light displaced
will find us out even in the quiet of our slumber.
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