I thought if I expressed my pains,
The pain would be too great,
That all the flower, in one brief hour,
Would wither in dead-fate.
But I’ve been wrong as so often I am,
Forcing-out the inner world,
Has only made the flowers grow…steady and slow,
Into dark interpretations of my world.
Seeing there before my eyes those tinted-petals,
Swaying in a windswept field.
Shadows set free for all to see,
My mind fogged with unsettles.
I thought the black-blooms would turn,
My eyes to love its’ hue,
And grant this love to rise above,
All thoughts of life in me to view.
But I was wrong, as I’ve always been, about this too.
You cannot hide what lies inside,
To live you must show you.
To the world show all the pains,
Materialize them…they are real.
If they lie, your heart will die,
For flowers need room to reveal.
Thickets of thorns: crimson and black,
Grow ‘neath tear-drowned skies;
Swiftly slicing their way each day,
Through bones and skin to your demise.
My moonlit roses ashen and set,
Far and wide upon my face,
Have released my heart burdens of its’ part,
In fading tears to bloomings’-pace.
Flowers must be able to grow,
And show what must be seen.
Hiding deep pains…draws weep stains,
To choke burdens unseen.
So leave me my field to show,
That I can let each flower,
Grow and be for all to see,
And daily greet each new rain-shower.
K. Aldaya, 6/15/05
Picture: “Rose Gothic” by Zefir4ik on Deviant Art; http://zefir4ik.deviantart.com/art/Rose-Gothic-144655365