You see that empty garden?
Do you see that stepping stone?
the one that is broken
shining from feet that walked on top
Do you see that stout woman?
the flowers surrounded by weeds?
she is the caretaker
pulling weeds and stepping on broken stone day by day
no one knows that stone is broken
no one sees the fissure
they walk through to see the garden
to see the indian paintbrush, lilacs, lilies
They see white roses, carnations, snapdragons
they see sunlight bouncing off dewdrops
streams, spiderwebs
silver trails from snails
But no one sees the broken stone
Except You.
You came to the garden on a cloudy day
flowers drenched in fallen rain
there was no sunlight to pull out the color
just damp and cold, forcing You to hunch your shoulders
watch your step
on a day like that
Broken stones stand out
You will not tell the caretaker
You will pause, stoop down to feel the break
You will come back
You will see the stepping stone
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