Come, Walk with Me in the Garden

Come, Walk with Me in the Garden

Katie Setterberg

If pain were a warm neutral,
a khaki or beige,
I’d wear it well.

But it’s more steel gray, isn’t it?
Blended down through the skin
into the recesses of the body,
stored in every clandestine crevice,
in the marrow and the joints,
eating away at the matter,
a silent feast.

Eventually, though, that cool gray
shows its face
like a masked mime retired
and turns up bolder,
though not black and white,
more crimson.

At first, you’ll say to yourself, aging.
The slow ache of arthritis is taking hold.
Then, you’ll wonder,
how many years of crimson pain
have I stored in my body,
have I hidden in my bones?

Next, the tears will rain
and the seasons will change
and it’s all sage.
Sage pain hides in plain sight,
in fading ink on shoulder blades,
in bags under exquisite eyes,
in weathered veins along an arm.
Soon enough sage turns to gold,
and like a sleeping lion, it’s fierceness
tangled in the unruly waves of mane,
it awakens to bare its teeth and
roar its famished roar.

And you’ll think to yourself, I’m so tired.
Why do I hide?
And you’ll hear,
Who told you that you were naked?

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Katie Setterberg
Counselor & Poet

Katie’s writing reflects her work as a professional counselor and mother. She lives with her family in Atlanta, GA and serves alongside her husband, an Anglican priest, in their local parish. In addition to poetry, Katie writes for children and released her debut picture book From Your Head to Your Toes in 2020. Find Katie at www.westsidestorybooks.com and on Instagram (@katie.setterberg)

Photography by Kseniya Budko