the day came
and the land was vast
enough space above
enough space below
for the spirits to wander freely.

There was light
so bright
it felt more hostile than the days before
the sea, great and old
lay still
as if holding its breath
as if it was waiting for one of its daughters to come home.

the nymph sat on the cliff
weeping.
with her voice
she cut the air
one said, they felt it miles away
her heart was so heavy
she feared she would sink like stone
into the sacred waters that once kept her safe

tears streamed down her face
and down her chest
and down the earth.
they streamed
and streamed
and became a river
that dug through the land
a forceful current, dark
and she wished for him to drown in it.

maybe it was the wind that brought her to the garden,
or maybe someone led her way
but the moment she laid eyes on the olive tree for the first time
she saw the soft movement of the branches
and it felt so familiar
the rhythmic back and forth

she wandered around
saw the creeping and crawling and growing
the garden was awake
and willing to listen

first, she stayed for a few days
to rest in the warmth of the open green
but time passed by
and she no longer counted the rising of the moon
nor did it matter anymore

the word has gotten around and with every new day
a new nymph came to join
a feast of all the living things
they drank and ate
they sang and dance
and cared deeply for each other.
they forgot about fear
and never saw a need to leave

if you listen carefully enough,
to the depths of this garden
they say
you could still hear them humming