Vox Populi
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George Witte: Laurels
Garland me with pestilence,
blown in, unbidden, rooted out or burnt
with toxin, only to revive.
Onion grass and dandelion.
Thistle, chickweed, purslane, mint.
Abundant goldenrod
marauding where the lawn gives way:
Wind my brow that I may
speak aloud or sing
if only to myself,
no longer silenced into secrecy.
Confer your gift for stubborn hold;
snapped off, withdraw and spread
invisibly with evening rain or dew
against the gardener’s device.
Entwine, obscure, consume, inhabit where
the native cannot thrive
until from crown to toe
within your fecund mantle I
transfigure, and begin again.
~~~~
Copyright 2025 George Witte
George Witte’s four collections are An Abundance of Caution (Unbound Edition Press,
2023), Does She Have a Name?, Deniability, and The Apparitioners. New poems are published or forthcoming in Colosseum, Divagations, Nimrod, On the Seawall, and Revel. He lives with his family in Ridgewood, New Jersey.
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Joseph Witte seems to have reached a point of realization, aided by the very words of his poem, whose glimpse of a truth, seems to go beyond what words can provide. He says, “Garland me with pestilence…
Wind my brow that I may
speak aloud or sing
if only to myself,
no longer silenced into secrecy.”
The poem and the soft words of the poet showing deep thought and contemplation remind me of Joseph Campbell’s words on poetry, Campbell says, ” Poetry is a language that has to be penetrated, It doesn’t shut you off it opens. The rhythm, the precise choice of words that will have implications and suggestions that go past the word.
And then you have the radiance, the epiphany, is the showing through of the essence.” is what I believe Joseph Witte experienced in his gardening, he says, It opened, it was quiet, but it was a glimpse beyond words. The last line of the poem says, ” within your fecund mantle I transfigure, and begin again.”
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Very deep thinking, Luz. Thank you.
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Witte’s list of the marauders contains many of my backyard favorites. What wonderful diversity they bring to our surroundings! What a relief from the boredom of a “perfect” lawn. Keep on celebrating.
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Dandelions are my favorite weeds: edible nourishers of the soil.
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Purslane is my favorite. Purslane soup: yummmmmm.
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Oh yes, purslane grows in the cracks of the sidewalk of my street. I gather it every other summer when it grows.
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Amen!
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Absolutely relevant and gorgeous. My little patio is completely surrounded by goldenrods, whose millions of tiny blossoms open to a buzz of bumblebees, defying their decline in the broader world. I was so covered in early fall goldenrod glory that catbirds and cardinals landed at my feet in the midst of the tall plants, eyed me, and ascended to a safer place. In our contested world, George Witte’s poem about plant interlopers, refugees at the verges of our lawn environments heartens. And to quote Naomi Shihab Nye, in another context of hers: “…if we can reach out a hand [to refugees], we better”.
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Lovely lyrical argument, Jim. Thank you.
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