desert melons
On tending seedlings, Palestine, and an ecology of care
they like to be dry, you said, before you went away for the day
so i didn’t water them that morning as I showered the rest of the baby plants in the greenhouse before leaving, myself
but you probably meant dry as in warm, and cozy, not dehyrated
a heavy difference
when i came back to find you returned, watering aggressively with the care of a concerned parent
the downturned edges of your mouth
like the drooping melon leaves beneath your gaze
both wilting with the gravity of neglect
and it was said without words that no melon is a cacti
even if it is a desert melon,
that a baby melon is a baby melon.
the next day we were lucky that these baby melons bounced back
“stronger than before”, you said, relieved —though i could see you were still shaky in the presence of near loss—
your reference being to them, surviving a hard thing
which was visible in their now crooked but still green shape
as much as us,
still having the opportunity to do better by their care
but it could have gone the other way
had you been gone longer
had they stayed thirsty one more hour
in the absence of my understanding
had they passed the point of hardening
and simply vaporized into that dry air
so it is lucky
that this evening as the sun goes down
the desert melons are properly watered,
tucked in beneath a cozy sheet within the greenhouse
and the tree frogs who nestle among their leaves
are chirping happily in the humidity
singing with content
and i wish it could be this way for all the children:
a sweet lullaby to gently fall asleep to as night sets in
to be understood as vulnerable and given the proper care
for a baby desert melon
is a baby melon
is a baby.
#freepalestine #ceasefirenow #lessonsfromthegarden #desertmelons