Posted on February 28, 2013 by Laurie Franklin
I look but can’t find it
Hiding under layers of scar.
Will it hurt more to hold it open to light?
I blow on it. Blow away dust.
Reveal the bones.
Step through the field; take the unclean road.
For the sake of dignity,
I sing in the dark and blow.
Mother, can you hear me?
I’m old now.
My hair is turning gray and my knees ache.
Tell me, have I missed something?
Do I love enough, laugh enough?
What does my life look like from your place?
Will my crops grow well this year?
This is their time.
The roses bloom in winter.
At mid-day, they perfume the air.
If my heart could open like this rose,
My prayers would answer me.