Guernica's Garden and Other Poems

by Elizabeth Wickland

GUERNICA’S GARDEN

after Picasso’s Guernica

For all the dismemberment,

anguish, killing, and gore,

the sword bears a flower:

Picasso demands more.

What if the disruption of war

were the plowing of soil,

where something good grew

from all of the toil?

What if we learned to plant

what’s returning—

perennials and trees—

instead of tilling and burning?

What if we broke

the cycles of breaking;

if the land were for planting

instead of for taking?

What if we didn’t

rely on their blood

to feed the earth,

to clear-cut and flood?

What if, instead

of starting anew,

we learned to sow seeds

seeing what grew?

Transforming the conflict

from wasteland to woodlet,

where the cash crop

is forgiveness, and we could let

hatred be weeded,

manure turned under,

hearing rain and not terror

at what sounds like thunder.

But what if this garden

is still far off—

Then we start with the small;

we choose one thing soft,

Like responding with patience

instead of with power,

or trading the sword

for a spade and a flower.

MORNING IN THE GARDEN

I stand, rooted

in grief

when my ears receive

what my thoughts

cannot conceive:

My Name.

Song sung

from beneath the grave,

rooted in the very foundation—

I am moved

in the resonant calling

of the one

I Am

What do I do from here

but echo the refrain:

sing the tune

without the words

and never stop at all…

Isn’t that what we’ve been doing

since the beginning,

from the moment we were plucked

from the grave, plucked

like a lute, plucked

like a flower

for the gardener’s beloved?

PROPAGATION

On the windowsill they glow,

feeding

on sunlight and water.

Untethered leaves

reaching out tentative threads

in search of connection.

They stretch further

and further, growing

in boldness

as if they understand

on a cellular level

that life can only be sustained

rooted

in the life-giving matrix

of community.

ELIZABETH WICKLAND

Elizabeth Wickland lives with her husband and two Yorkies in Bozeman, Montana. She loves words and their stories and has responded to life through poetry and art for as long as she can remember. Elizabeth also enjoys gardening and cultivating beauty in her small corner of the world, whether in person or online. She writes for The Black Barn Online, and her published work includes The Unmooring, Calla Press, The Way Back to Ourselves, and The Rabbit Room Poetry Substack, among others.

You can find her on Instagram at @punamulta.priory and at elizabethwickland.substack.com.