Jungle

I remember a jungle.

It was a long time ago. The grass was sharper on my feet, probably because I had a whole lot less weight bearing down on that sea of green reeds- or maybe it was because our backyard was filled with crab grass. At any rate, it wasn’t real pleasant, but then again it’s not the quest itself that means anything. It’s the stories coming back after the expeditions that are the draw. The pictures you make up in the moment.

I would enjoy cutting the jungle in those days, putting it back in its place week in and week out, like taming my own small plot of the world. It was my jungle.

Now it’s interesting. I don’t cut the grass anymore, I pay rent to a corporation and they come by to do the cutting and raking as needed. But I still live in my jungle, only here, it’s better.

The old priest that I live with is terribly British, and the ideas of the empire still sail in and out of his sharp but forgetful mind. He is the commander of his vessel, and orders it against the forces of creation that in their chaos and given half a chance would tear him to pieces. But he has no fear.

Our house is surrounded by forests. The trees tower overhead, sixty, seventy and eighty feet in the air, around the perimeter of the lawn and deep into the dark and trackless jungle. The vines of poison ivy, wild grapes and Virginia creepers wrap them like they are the Ladies and Lords of their domain, choking and killing certain trees as the vulgar crowds grow restless. But the fury and politics of the jungle hold their ground at the edge of the lawn, for fear of the swinging machetes and tiger lilies that stand guard on the line.

You shall come thus far and no farther.

Inside the delightful little patch of freedom the warm sunlight comes in, and gives life to the most spectacular little garden. Here, amid all the chaos, is an ordered plot of land. Nothing grows without permission, and each flower and shrub courts the favor of Father with rich blooms and color. The uncooperative will be given a chance on appeal (of and to clemency) by being moved to the fronts, where if they prove their valor in the face of the jungle they may regain entry to the coveted soils. But their society is ordered by a trained hand and gives delight to the eyes.

As I patrol the edges of my domain, I take note of their keeping.