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Starting to Understand

  • Writer: Julie Quiroz
    Julie Quiroz
  • Aug 5, 2021
  • 1 min read

Updated: Aug 8, 2021


A giant sunflower appeared in my garden in space carved through grass and dirt long before I arrived

I’ve planted bulbs here twice in autumn when planting feels melancholy knowing there’s nothing they need from me in winter

I didn’t grow this sunflower but I didn’t kill it either

Some weeds demand respect with stems so thick and strong you question what you’ve been told

I went away for weeks to see the sister whose voice held me in quarantine

Came back to a being taller than me by a foot My eyes looking up

to a cluster of tough green leaves

steadily opening


I hope for flowers

born of seed carried by bird or wind to earth outside the door

I live in awe of a giant sunflower I did not plant

Thinking about seeds and what we kill and how I ever called this garden mine




 
 
 

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