a garden of roses blooms along my body - by Jovina Rahardjo

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour” - William Blake, Auguries of Innocence Two months ago, I went back to Singapore feeling something I had not felt in a long time – ready. I knew what I had to do, and finally had the guts to do it. But two months ago, at the cusp of a new adventure – like a polynesian mythological tale of old – a garden of roses started blooming all along my body. Wildflowers born from the tips of God’s fingertips that bloomed out of thin air. Foliage across my arms, legs, stomach. Violently red, blotchy, blooming as retaliation if I try to ail them away with medication. Within my lungs there grew white roses instead. These ones were more persistent and dangerous than the red ones and I didn’t dare underestimate them. Within me there lay petals with no alliance to my body, its nonconsensual home. Thanks for reading houseplant mother! Subscribe for free to receive new posts a

“To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour” - William Blake, Auguries of Innocence Two months ago, I went back to Singapore feeling something I had not felt in a long time – ready. I knew what I had to do, and finally had the guts to do it. But two months ago, at the cusp of a new adventure – like a polynesian mythological tale of old – a garden of roses started blooming all along my body. Wildflowers born from the tips of God’s fingertips that bloomed out of thin air. Foliage across my arms, legs, stomach. Vi