The Cabbage :: A Poem

the world pulls itself to pieces
in unease and fear
meanwhile, in the garden
the cabbage throws out leaves,
sends life through veins in
colors you can’t believe,
teal and dusky purple,
soft mauve, grey.
the cabbage lives low to the ground
unfurling too slowly to see,
building in sequence,
layer upon layer,
first the leaves, then this
protected heart, with pages
like many hands
closing over one another
fingers overlapping and enfolding,
patting gently the center,
the marvel, the soul.
the cabbage
does not ignore the rumors
of loss and lack
it knows about the feet of armies,
but its cells can only move in these
purpling waves, motion so soft it
uproots dynasties and soothes
the aching heart of the world.

***

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