Wednesday, November 19, 2014
could they know the world they would unfold in,
or do they only know "roseness", "rose"
all other worlds being unnecessary.
within themselves as Rilke noted, being
no one's sleep petal by petal how we
have wondered, really, can there be
such tenderness? married to colour, vividness,
the perfume we loved from childhood
never being taught to.
oh rose. rose. be not torn in the harsh winds.
emblem of the heart and frail as we are, and steadfast, yet-
the poets defend you still.
mary angela douglas 19 november 2014