The Innisfree Poetry Journal
www.innisfreepoetry.org
by Donna Denizé
CARING FOR ROSES
for baby Landon Travis Fulwider “Atoms vibrate in all the schools of the world… the pen cannot trace nor the tongue recount.”⎯Baha’u’llah
Every January, we order bulbs from the nursery, anxiously open the manual, searching (I don’t know why) for something new; it never changes, though
all else does. Reading, each year, Caring for roses: keep it safe, simple, we await arrival: Begonias, Dahlias, Freesias, Gladiolus, Lilies, and Roses too:
To prevent rust, prune out inner branches;
we were watchers (in truth), secret watchers of bloom and peerless unfolding petals, of mead’s florid splendor; majestic work enamored, captured our gaze, boundlessly
swept us to luminous worlds, different yet welded⎯mysteriously joined to ours. And when from soil roses come into their glory, I take a breath, gingerly
touch your hand, wonder full⎯Colors coming with their simple shadowing bloom. From sun, rain, earth, blossoms bid⎯exalt each flower
leaf, branch⎯everywhere flower⎯everywhere colors: one country, colors⎯one nation, colors⎯Begonias, Dahlias, Roses⎯ And then, you arrive, eyes black as olives,
your hair of sable night, and I know there is no manual for such blooming: watering, feeding, pruning, and loving with numberless days of light bring this birth,
fresh from heart-stir, as life-cord is cut, your name, annunciated to waiting ears, eyes, and we, speechless, searching no longer. (Caring for roses: keep it safe, simple).
As Mystic roses illumine the earth to speak a common script, atoms vibrate in all the schools of the world, move heaven
to disclose what had been wrapped, concealed, laid up in bounty beyond our sight, bounty every dawn tide, eventide. In each bloom,
the world of being and all therein Thy heavenly place, river, banquet⎯grace the pen cannot trace nor the tongue recount.
To increase light and air-circulation,
remove inner branches and lower leaves eighteen inches from the soil, feed every four weeks, and don’t forget to water.
Petals unclose; we do not speak in this spot, do not divide air by syllable or sound. We know only nurture, sense need:
(and there it is)⎯to love one human race in shades of perfect grace, loving all, no manual, like caring for Landon: keep it safe, simple, don’t forget, water.
We think of springs emptying, refilling themselves from hidden source, then of “we,” born as one⎯dust, born of a self-same “dust.” Things stir within, causing us to draw close, closer to blooms held back no longer. Heart- soil turns, and we will, Landon, keep you near,
close to earth where all tabernacles rise as living cups, and flowers waken brisk breezes, spread splendor, life raised up, and more: dominion’s sweet scent, creation unfolds
enfolding us⎯all⎯in hidden Unseen.
Copyright 2006-2012 by Cook Communication
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