My Organic Cure

My mind is a garden.

It needs room to grow and flourish. It needs fertiliser, love, sunlight and water. The walls surrounding my garden seem to give off signals that seem to attract weeds and diseases and bugs that eat all of my foliage. My soil is firm, full of nutrients and worms.

I need water, a little bit each day. But not too much or else I reject everything in order to dry out. I hate being flooded. My roots get soggy and I get stroppy and I can’t breathe. Sometimes I get dehydrated and wilted. My leaves go flaccid and I can’t bare to stand up. My whole irrigation system fails and I turn my back and refuse anything offered.

I keep growing bigger and stronger everyday. My branches are large and outreaching. My vines and clingy and sometime inconvenient. They reach out, over my wall and into other gardens. One day my garden will be the centre for all gardeners, botanists and green thumbs. My garden is a place for me to hide, a secret place that no one can touch or harm as long as I have the things I need. I don’t  need a name tag, I am rare. My foliage is green and rough. My roots are strong but my flowers are unique and overwhelming. Sometimes they are too big and bright, I wish no one could see them. But then again, I love the attention.

Sometimes people see me in the wrong time of year, when I am not in bloom and my branches are bare. They always miss the colours. These are fake gardeners, no care for the environment at all. Some people only ever see the colours and glory. These are observers who only care for beauty. But then there are the real gardeners who see me in all my colour and all my death. These are true people. They understand my cycles. That's why they visit. But they never stay. No one stays. This is my garden. No amount of weeds or poisons or destruction can kill me. Nature will find a way.

My organic cure will save me.