Sometimes,
I think back
to when I first held you.
You were not yet in bloom,
merely a green stalk
that still could not resist
the temptations
of the morning breeze.
I fixed you each day..
held your heart close to mine,
so you could hear the whisper of eternity
that lay between us.
Your voice echoed through my soul,
a song that did not yet know
the freedom of the
eastern wind.
Like a moth I was led by your love,
until the cold December rain
washed away the melody that brought me
to you all those years ago.
But still I found you:
beautiful, mute, radiating
in the glow of the evening light.
I held you once more,
but felt a sting in my heart.
Blood dripped down my arm
and stained the grass
that surrounded you...
soaking into the coarse earth
that was your womb.
For you are a rose,
newly bloomed,
and your gaze is set
eastward.