In the Garden by Christiana Castillo
In The Garden
Christiana CastilloMy wild grief didn’t know where to start or end.
Sometimes, I dig my hands
through the earth just to get
my fingers dirty.
Under my nails,
a bed of life.Why use a shovel
when I have these hands?
Brown pigment to meet brown pigment.
I know the sprinkle
of seeds, not too shallow,
not too deep, twice
the size of seed.I plant the irises, the purple promises.
Soon, there will be a sea of purple to return to.I follow the bees, seek
their honey, the taste of home
sticky memory
speckled with a
collection of dandelions,
tiny suns,
sustenance despite.
Dandelions and all their names,
honey with all it’s amber sweetness
A reminder, a promise.My only sense
of direction, my body,
and where my hands
touched the Earth,
where my hands touched yours.
KEEP READING
SHARED WITH GRATITUDE
This poem appeared in Epiphany Garden, 2026.
ABOUT CHRISTIANA CASTILLO
Christiana Castillo is a Mexican-Brasilian-American poet, an educator, and a gardener. Born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, she is based in Chicago. She is an alumna of Wayne State University, where she graduated with majors in peace, conflict studies and resolution, and in English. Castillo finished graduate school at the University of Michigan with a degree in secondary education and a focus on teaching English and English as a second language. Readers can find her work in the Pinch
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ENDNOTES
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