when the world feels impossible, i choose

when the world feels impossible, i choose

the gardens because each time I enter, I savor
the solace of nature—every bed a reminder to pause.
One week a plethora of peonies. The next, speckled
wood lilies bordering bird of paradise.

But I’m not prepared for the rustle of feathers;
a red-tailed hawk soars into the nearest tree.
I stop, wincing at the sight of a small squirrel clutched
in its talons. Startled by the violence, yet knowing

this is our world. Thrum and beat of beauty
peppered with spectacles of suffering.
And then, just a few feet away, a small child
dances to the ringtone on her papa’s phone.

A goose skate-dances on water for what appears
to be its own amusement. Sunflowers stand stalwart
feeding goldfinches, seeds straight from the source,
and I turn, in supplication to the sun.