some flowers when they're touched evince a bruise
I learned from my Grandmother placing the magnolia bloom
in the silver bowl
some flowers bruise;be careful
sometimes the soul retracts its starry rays
beyond a thing that I can say to make it not so
into the rainbowed, weeping world we go
with small defenses
aren't we all flowers armed with our pretenses
till the path we tread and we ourselves are worn;
threadbare, our cloth of gold
like St. Exupery's rose
who thought herself well guarded
with a single thorn
mary angela douglas 2 august 2021
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