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Garden Variety Democracy
By Philip Luckey
Tilling the dirt
To reveal riches:
Sometimes the changes are apparent from just a glance…
Or, just as a seed pokes out a tender shoot from the ground
And unfurls, for future fruit, young leaves—
The growth inches along at a slower rate
Maybe steady, perhaps unsure,
But, if nurtured, moving toward a golden day.
Saturday morning at her assigned spot
Sarah tends her plot of vegetable plants:
Some water here, some weeds pulled there,
Propping up a leaning sprig
While sweat drips from her head and neck
As if shedding wet jewels for her accomplishments.
Though she’s already labored so many weeks
And the next harvest—still so far away!
Yet she hopes for good weather and a decent yield
Here in her field invested with faith.
I remember sitting knee to knee
A small group of four, maybe five of us
On plastic hard chairs
In the high school gym…
Shiny polished floor
Full of seats (though not in rows, but in murmuring clumps and groups)
We spoke of what we valued
Within each tiny circle
And shared what we wanted to see.
Our shepherd
Helped us winnow and tend
To our ideas on the easel
Written with black Sharpie
Aimed for future growth.
I remember that night.
“How are your tomatoes doing, Sarah?”
The man from his nearby spot asks.
She sighs,
Settles on her aching knees
In the glare of this noonday sun
And the oppressive heat
Lifts away green leaves to reveal
The smaller-than-expected progress
Of her careful work:
The tiny shapes of her future food.
Hopefully, it’ll rain again tomorrow.
Hopefully, it will rain.
A few weeks after
My session in the gym
I went to a meeting downtown
In a square pavilion, every wall of glass,
Where all those scribbled ideas we had shared
Had been processed—
Compiled and compared,
Categorized into themes—
Kind of like shucking corn or snapping beans
(Not just from my gym’s shiny floor,
But from the dozens more
Throughout our town)
All printed up on large paper sheets
Taped to the cool glass around us.
Surrounded by row after row of our dreams,
Our next steps
We decided
To take
Together.
Finally—the green beans, tomatoes,
Bell peppers, the squash
Were ripe enough to be tugged away
From their vines and stems
And placed into her woven basket.
As she collects these results
Sarah feels warmed by the response
Of the soil and seeds
(And those yanked weeds, and bugs removed)
Thankful for her ten-foot square portion
Of the neighborhood garden.
Next season, she muses to herself…
What should I plant next?
Months have gone by
Since I sat in that echoing gym
Discussing our dreams,
And today I scoot over my plate
To stretch out the news
Like an inky blanket on the kitchen table
To read another article in the paper
(Similar to a story last week, and the week before)
About “surprises” in my town:
An idea for an aquarium by the river?
A walkway down to the dam?
People talking now about new parks,
New homes, and more —
Actually talking with each other
For each other—
Not set apart
But pulled together.
Though, really not a surprise to me…
Because I remembered that small huddle
Under that gym’s sodium vapor lights
Sowing seeds on an easel
For plants to grow
Into organized efforts
That led to our community’s change.
Tilling the dirt
To reveal riches:
How like a garden we are.
And yet, each planting needs attention
And care
Involving each other.
Next season, next week, next door, we muse…
What should we plant next?
Meet the Poet – Philip Luckey
I call myself a Communication Generalist, because I try to communicate better using a wide variety of methods, and to help other people share with each other, too.
I record and edit videos and documentaries and livestreams, typically for nonprofits, music, art, dance, ministry, and education. I also write and design and use lighting and teach and facilitate meetings — in short, I’m a storyteller and problem-solver.
Having lived most of my life in the Chattanooga area, I’ve been fascinated by reading and writing since I was a young pup. I started writing down my poems when I was a teenager, and in high school a poem of mine won an award and was published in a local anthology. Poetry has been a continual (though at times infrequent) source of expression for me throughout the years. Lately, I’ve been meaning to concentrate on creating more poetry, and this Democracy Poetry Pathway project came at just the right time to encourage me.
As I like to say, our communities are content-rich, but distribution-poor. I try to help how I can, with my involvement in the Red Bank Public Art Advisory Board, the Chattanooga Venturing Study Group, the Rotary Breakfast Club, the Nightfall Music Advisory Committee, Opera Tennessee, and others. My hope is for each of us to ultimately learn the best ways to create our own stories to share with each other.
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