A few years ago I had the pleasure of working at a little joint called Enery Water Gardens. It was a charming place with greenhouses brimming full of exotic plants I’d never seen before, animals who looked after us just as we did them, shady cottonwood trees that allowed us to hear the wind, and a sense of community that welcomed everyone to show up just as they were. No matter the mood you were in or the circumstances of your life, there was always room and acceptance to simply be. A lot happened in my life during the brief year I was there – including the death of my grandmother – and since then it has proven to be a backdrop to one of the most developmental times in my life. Along with the art (and heart) of nurturing, this poem is just a glance of what Enery taught me.
The gentleness of water
holds many things:
the sway of a reed
the eroticism of a canna
the fleeting significance of a lotus blossom;
the submerged flight of frogs through mid-pond
the clumsiness of a duckling’s first plunge
the invisibility of the world’s smallest flower.
I learned why slimy things are beautiful
how death can be nurturing
and that even demons need a peaceful place
where they can safely sit
into depths beyond a water’s edge.
It was where all of life
with its evils
became organic -
Pure and simple.
© Mayme Snow