J Shiruti
(Excerpted from Poetree for the Overgrown, Bookleaf Publishing, January 2025)
The Hunter and The Gardener
There stands the hunter,
Eyes sharp, feet silent on the earth,
Gripping the pulse of the wild,
A keeper of the chase,
The untamed rhythm of life.
The other kneels, the gardener,
Hands deep in the soil,
Shaping the land, persuading life from the earth deep,
Tending, nurturing,
A creator of cycles,
Where each season bends to the will of love and care.
Two minds, two ways of seeing-
The hunter who knows the wilderness,
The gardener who tames it,
Both shaping the same world,
But each with their own vision.
The hunter breathes the untold stories of the wild,
A world of balance, of survival, of primal force,
Where nothing is guaranteed,
And everything is earned.
The gardener, in contrast,
Tells stories of planting, of waiting,
Of thriving in the spaces we claim.
A patient architect of life,
A keeper of seasons.
Two forces, pulling in opposite directions-
The wild, the thought,
And the cultivated, controlled dream.
Each has its place,
But which will shape the future?
The hunter who leaves no trace,
Or the gardener who grows with time?
In Service of the Sacred
Seldom do you find others like you
Fighting the weight of a world built on greed.
Fueled by coffee and raw conviction,
Living through daily ironies,
Taking on more than your share
Just to bridge the gap for others.
It’s not a 9-to-5, not freelance work.
It’s a calling, inherited and endless.
It swallows “work-life balance” whole,
Driven by a purpose
That must be foolproof and true.
Breaking stereotypes,
Unlearning and relearning,
While progress looks like a ruin.
You go beyond easy answers,
A purpose carried every moment.
You stand apart, a soul out of tune,
Your heart is beating to a rhythm they cannot hear.
In your passion, they see rebellion.
Loved ones drift away,
Calling you “uproar,” or an “activist”,
Names that sting but cannot silence
the song that drives you forward.
You whisper apologies to Mother Earth,
Bearing the weight of neglect
You trade with inner dissonance,
Walking the thin line of wants and needs.
“Less ambitious,” they say,
As you tread the untrodden path,
Picking up what’s left behind.
With a quiet strength, they’ll never understand.
But you know what?
No ambition burns brighter
Than standing against the powerful leagues,
Fighting the tide of greed and indifference.
Shouldering the hopes of every carbon breath.
Offering yourself to those who will never know your
name.
Yes, it’s a lonely walk,
For those who dare to care,
For those who hope,
For those who see.
With courage as our guide.
There is no greater calling than this-
In service of the sacred.