Imagine a poem with a wandering garden, a garden
that comes and goes in a place that ends by the sea,
like this poem that ends by the sea on one side
and a wall on the other and nothing but wreckage
between them, a garden planted in pots between chunks of concrete
by a dreamer of gardens, planting the seeds of dreams, the seeds
of sister and mother, the seeds of tomorrow, the seeds of trust,
what more does a garden dreamer need but a few pots, and soon
the seeds will turn into mint, cilantro, dill, basil,
a miniature plantation of aubergines in their glossy black skins,
there will be heavenly peppers and the reddest tomatoes
and he and his family will eat together from his fruits of life
from the garden that keeps moving between the wall
and the sea with its family of plants and the gardener
always leaving green stalks behind between chunks
of concrete, and the mountains of debris greening
because he is again putting seeds into the dust
where light and water work together to create miracles.
But today the garden dreamer is sobbing because he’s been told
to carry his garden elsewhere again and he is too tired
because he has been everywhere and nowhere in this place
that is everywhere and nowhere and there is nowhere to go
between the wall and the sea except to the end of this poem
that ends by the wall on one side and the sea on the other
with nothing but wreckage between them.
Why can’t he have a garden, no matter how small,
the size of a bed, a flag or even a poem with room
for ten-year-old dreamers of paradise gardens,
with room for heavenly tomatoes, mint, cilantro, dill, basil?
Eva Bourke is a poet and translator who has published eight collections, the most recent of which is Tattoos, (Dedalus 2024). Seeing Yellow was nominated for the Irish Times/Poetry Now Award in 2019. She was awarded the Michael Hartnett Prize in 2020 and is a member of Aosdána.
that comes and goes in a place that ends by the sea,
like this poem that ends by the sea on one side
and a wall on the other and nothing but wreckage
between them, a garden planted in pots between chunks of concrete
by a dreamer of gardens, planting the seeds of dreams, the seeds
of sister and mother, the seeds of tomorrow, the seeds of trust,
what more does a garden dreamer need but a few pots, and soon
the seeds will turn into mint, cilantro, dill, basil,
a miniature plantation of aubergines in their glossy black skins,
there will be heavenly peppers and the reddest tomatoes
and he and his family will eat together from his fruits of life
from the garden that keeps moving between the wall
and the sea with its family of plants and the gardener
always leaving green stalks behind between chunks
of concrete, and the mountains of debris greening
because he is again putting seeds into the dust
where light and water work together to create miracles.
But today the garden dreamer is sobbing because he’s been told
to carry his garden elsewhere again and he is too tired
because he has been everywhere and nowhere in this place
that is everywhere and nowhere and there is nowhere to go
between the wall and the sea except to the end of this poem
that ends by the wall on one side and the sea on the other
with nothing but wreckage between them.
Why can’t he have a garden, no matter how small,
the size of a bed, a flag or even a poem with room
for ten-year-old dreamers of paradise gardens,
with room for heavenly tomatoes, mint, cilantro, dill, basil?
Eva Bourke is a poet and translator who has published eight collections, the most recent of which is Tattoos, (Dedalus 2024). Seeing Yellow was nominated for the Irish Times/Poetry Now Award in 2019. She was awarded the Michael Hartnett Prize in 2020 and is a member of Aosdána.
