The Pure Contradiction

reading the rose rightly as from the first
and petal by petal tracing it in the mind
as on paper with spilt spatter paint

or wearing childhood's frock
and tiny rosebuds embroidered
on the top

with a pink sash she says

and feels like a rosebud too
and this is reading too
the first delight

so that the children dance rosy
ring the rosy round and
all fall down in the rose beds

laughing reading the rose
and later in the book you come across
the War of the Roses, the heraldic rose,

thinking what is that did the armies
throw petals at one another or
why should roses fight

then turning to the allegorical
the Mystical, Rose the rose of
inner light

and Jesus is the Rose
in the Christmas night
and Rilke's rose falls asleep

with her epitaph engraved
after living in so many poems
as in living waters, rose waters,

rose, "oh the pure contradiction
to be no one's sleep" he dreamed

I dreamed she dreamed, they dreamed,
they were-
conjugations of the rose

and reverence before the rose

I understand I have never understood
how may there be sorrow
in a world where roses are.?

mary angela douglas 28 october 2017