I didn’t mean to ruin it

Poem by Prabhat Shukla titled I didn't mean to ruin it on vintage paper with dried flowers
I didn't mean to ruin it - the gardener- the realisation by Prabhat Shukla 

 I didn’t mean to ruin it.


That’s the lie I tell myself, because it sounds gentler than the truth.


The truth is:

I liked how it looked when I was in control.


I planted that garden when I needed something to obey me.

The world wasn’t listening. The soil did.


I watered it carefully, like care could compensate for the rest of my failures.

When things grew uneven, I told myself it was natural.

When they grew wild, I called it neglect.


There was an insect — I remember that much.

I don’t remember when it arrived.

Things that matter rarely announce themselves.


And when I cleaned it, I cut quickly.

Clean lines. Efficient hands.

I didn’t look for what might be hiding.


Later, I found the quiet unbearable.

Not peaceful.

Accusing.


You don’t miss what you never respected.

You miss what you assumed would survive you.


I tell people I was maintaining the garden.

That’s another lie.


I was afraid of disorder because it reminded me of myself.


Some things never came back.

Others did, slowly, differently, without asking.


I still garden.

But I hesitate now.


Not because I’ve learned kindness —

but because I’ve learned regret.



Also published on Medium:   https://medium.com/@Shuklaprabhat/i-didnt-mean-to-ruin-it-23a60356b214

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