Libations Part 2: Memory Garden

I am building a memory garden
among the tamarind trees.

Every ephemeral recollection I
fuse and freeze in stem and leaf.

Inlaid in tamarind trunk
are kisses from a fading lover.

She cannot bear to hear me speak.
And I would build a memory garden
for I hear her voice
in every

In the garden is a grotto,
holding deepest gleams,
growing with the stones and
sky erodes in silent
tendrils through the deep.

A warmth of sancuary where
I rest my closest visions.

I am haunted, every other night,
by tellings to inscribe
on blade of grass and
fallen fruit.

In elm I place my fear.
It stretches below and above
and shakes the soil at every
twist of its noble head.

In oak I place my ardour,
feeling as it moves it
drags the ocean through my veins.

In maple place my anger
and as is sighs I know it
calls tornados from their source.

When the owl perched
back upon the tamarind branch,
it scattered stars;

it unsettled the dust of planets.

I am pouring out my memories,
a libation to soak the ground.
What will grow from these, I do not know.
I pray wisdom, but

I set my memories in casting stones.