Sowing My Feet Into the Soil
My Grandmother plants rows of sunflower seeds
in her back garden in the summer and I sow
my feet into the soil, tell her that I am growing too.
I ask if she knows the difference between a sunflower
and a windmill: one will let you reminisce, plucking petals
like feathers from a chicken hoping that you will be able to
eat your questions once you have prepared dinner;
the other propels you forward with each gust of wind.
I tell her that I am both; a consequence of the seasons:
a reflection of love, loss and somehow all the hues between;
moving forward always whether I like it or not.
Though I usually spend more time coveting the past than I do
embracing the present, the thing about life is that it demands
to be felt, demands to be seen, demands you to pay attention
no matter how much you try to resist its presence.
How many times has your mind meddled in the past,
staring mindlessly out of a window in a crowded train
only for a voice over to announce the next stop is yours.
Even trains will train your thoughts to be here, now.
I have tried many times to send the ‘present’ away
but it has this way of knowing how to return to sender.
Now I just do not open the letterbox some days.
I am not unwilling; it is just now it is more on my terms.
And I think that is still progress.
I might glance at the back of the envelope before opening it.
And I think that is still moving forward.
I might bury it, but when it is ready I will let it sprout.
And I think that is still growing.
By Anita Dutt
Anita Dutt is not a musician but that has not stopped her from trying to play the heartstrings. Her composition of poetry can be found at ww.aribcagesymphony.tumblr.com. She is an Australian university student studying so that one day she can be a part of the healing.