Midwest Winter Garden

By: Victoria G. Smith

North winds blow and sculpt the ghostly terrain.
Winter has cloaked us with its mantle, at
last. As if burying what strives to live
beneath, guarding the buds that spring will bring,
just as we, above, die to start again.
He gazes across the garden, wondering
what birds feast on in their sleep. I watch him
stand before the kitchen window—a grownup
man now, shadow of the boy I knew.
This frigid, talcum white world fascinates
as much as overwhelms him. I wonder
what emotions churn inside him—does he
feel what I felt when I, too, had left the
land of our birth and youth? Here we are, now:
siblings, yet more strangers than friends, I fear.
How to catch up with fourteen years gone by?
Like this landscape both old and new, culling
familiar tune, first forgotten before
remembered in hearts’ tentative duet.
Behold, songbirds are feeding on the trees.

Poet’s Notes: I wrote above poem in the spring of 2007, almost fourteen years after I left my native country, the Philippines. It was inspired by the first time my brother Dex visited me since I’d immigrated to the United States. It was a very emotional time for me, primarily because of the uncertainty of feeling around for the persons we once knew in each other, antsy to find the familiar soul in each of us. That was one of the experiences in my life that convinced me love never changes. For although we were both older and scarred by life, that sweet, loving, and generous spirit that marks sibling affection soon showed itself accessible to us after all that time. My brother loved me as I loved him—no matter how long or how far we’ve gone on separately in life. Together at last—that was what mattered. I joyfully saw my brother and his family again recently as I traveled back to the Philippines to do what many Filipino expatriates do—see family and friends, eat the foods we love and miss, enjoy the natural beauty of our motherland, and serve our people through our talents and resources honed and grown in our adopted countries—and already
we are planning on our next reunion. My brother is my best friend, and I miss him every
day I am away from him. Above poem is my tribute to him. As National Poetry Month is
heralded by a new spring that dawns upon us, sharing above poem—likewise born in
springtime that began a new stage in my relationship with my beloved brother—seems an
appropriate way to celebrate.