Julie Quiroz
Starting to Understand
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