Ghazal: Of the Garden
I passed through that ancient garden.
Where I stepped, became a garden.
The sacred place must be enclosed
In order to be a garden.
How dared he place those others here?
By birthright, it was my garden.
They were banned by a fiery sword
And fled eastward from the garden.
Tiger is a river that flows
From the deep roots of the garden.
©Ardelle Hollis Ray
I haven’t read a ghazal in a long time! Nice use of the form here.
The story reveals itself as familiar in a satisfying way. So much of Satan’s behaviour seems to have come from warped thinking like this, selfish and unreasoning.
Working with the limits of a form can produce wonderful results. I look forward to reading more of your work.