The Corrupt Gardener

You are loyal to the youth

You garden like common seeds,

A gentle gatherer in assuming suits

Collecting hopeful sellers of dreams.

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You till open commons

Manicured with open minds

Eager to be moulded in your image

With tools from your unholy shed

Sharper with age

Rustier with time.

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You water the thirsty

With weary-making words

Poured into porous souls

Fed into fertile hearts.

Some for their own good,

But some for yours.

Always in the know that

Poisoned water can

Only stump the willow’s growth.

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You are attracted to saplings

Dependent on careful nurturing and

Reaching for protection to

Grow in the glow of those high above

Who offer education conditional on

Not branching out too far and

Not understanding too deeply.

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You sow beds of youthful admirers,

Students ripe for harvest when

They look up to you

To bloom unknowingly into

An un-symbiotic relationship.

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You cultivate stormy shelter under

Cloudy terms and allied enablers

Who keep the silence

To keep the peace.

But harmony and safety

Are not the same thing.

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You are a corrupt gardener.

The pest on my petals

The dirt on my spine

The hand that plays god

Like a self-righteous fraud.

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But the only deity a flower

Worships is the Sun. And

She is unforgiving and blinding

Red like a fiery rose, burning with

The beauty you desire

The strength you envy

The courage you crave.

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And the power you can never uproot.