A wall impossible to climb surrounded by cacti.

A rusty gate covered in decaying vines.

Through the gate is a cold, gray decaying garden. Lifeless. The gardens keeper is long gone.

Dead plants and trees seemed to stretch for miles.

Movement causes the once-lively green grass to crunch. Useless and nothing but a fire hazard.

A path winds throughout. Maybe once it was pleasant to walk on but now it's jagged and unforgiving. Like a scar in the land.

Dead clover that creeps along reminds of an innocence that's now lost to the past.

Tall stalks sag towards the ground. They once were sunflowers looking to the sun for everything they needed. But the clouds betrayed them.

Aspens litter the grounds no longer providing shade or oxygen. They're trucks scared by passers who ignored the cry of the old trees as they carved.

Something called from the center.

A warm breeze climbing up from the valley. The sent of life is a welcomed feeling.

A strong oak stands in the middle of the garden its roots looking like they want to touch the whole garden.

The ring of beautiful fresh roses forms a ring around the tree.

Just beyond the roses were dandelions that danced in the breeze.

Everywhere the roots reached the garden was healing.

It was healing from the inside out.

Maybe one day the roots would re was healing from the inside outach the Aspen or the clover. Maybe the cati will fall away making it easier to see the garden. I don't know why the garden allowed me to enter. Maybe to show that it's healing without help. Maybe to show that hearing is possible. Maybe just say I'm here. And I'm almost ready for others to know.