We are all compost...*

I am what's left of scraps

and scrapings

from life's many snacks

and feasts.

I am peelings and parings

and cores and pips.

I am remains of dinners burnt;

of false starts

and failed cuisines.

I am what's left of parties

and festive times

and wakes.

I am detritus of ideas,

ambitions,

hopes,

and schemes,

cooked on

a slow flame,

tasted,

tested,

digested (in part),

then cast aside.

I am rich loam.

Spread what is left of me

to grow a world

beyond my wildest dreams.

My composted life

is yukky and a little on the nose,

but it's good enough

for you to tend

your garden bed.

* ”...we are all compost for worlds we cannot yet imagine.”

From ”Ambition” in Whyte, David, Consolations: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words, Many Rivers Press, Langley, Washington, 2015.

© Karel Reus