How lame is it if I share a draft of a poem here? I was thinking of almost the same image when I wrote it about two weeks ago (also in St George!) and it just feels, like, important somehow?

Undoing who you made of me

Yesterday, a hymn
had earwormed it's way out
of the deepest place in my skull.

There are so many things I cannot unlearn.

You told me my mind was a garden,
and I watched you cultivate what I grew.
Skills budded, and morals blossomed,
but there was something else too.

When my questions sprouted,
you plucked them up.
We called them seeds of doubt.
We pushed them elbow deep
into the compost pile.

So we didn't wonder
if a rose is worth the thorns.
We grew red ones,
and the bloody fingerprints
never showed.

And I never grew nightshade.
And I never fed the crows.

Until a weed, which you missed,
grew inside me
until it was too woody to deadhead
until a wild sunflower came out of my mouth
until I realized I was on my own

I tried to burn everything out,
salted it, flooded it,
bought new bags of earth
at head shops and flea markets.
I tried to start over.

but yesterday, an earworm...
reminded me of all the plants
who didn't choose their roots

So I dug my feet under the peat soil
and turned my chest to the moon.
I filled myself with light
from the clay under my toenails,
to the moss growing in my hair,
until my tears sunk me
like a bulb under mud