Where were you when the world began to sing to you again?
One day when you had stopped looking,
she gathered together all the benedictions that were your due and decanted them into the wild reservoir of your life.
There were golden orb weavers there,
and calypso orchids.
And graceful monarchs who lifted their painted wings as though the miracle of their being weighed nothing.
The world was singing again, an eloquence of omens.
Some of us were listening.
All of us were standing, still.
And I thought I saw you there, at the cusp of new meaning.
You were unfurling like an atlas moth. You were spinning like a compass rose.
And I held my hands out to you and said, precious one, did you ever think we’d get here?
Precious one—listen—we are still here.
Sharanya Manivannan (b 1985)
Cheers to all the promises of Springtime! May the ‘Garden’ that’s your Thursday be resplendent with blooms!