WAITING WHILE THE ROSES BREAK OPEN




Time lies into your body

as we shout our desire

to the stars, watching

the moon swimming in

ponds of black pearls.



Between us all the rivers,

all the mountains paint unobservable

mysteries. Between us a thousand

words to be revealed, an altar of

tomorrow.



I wait.



Daisies blossom,

Leaves sigh.

Darkness enters my face.

I stand there waiting for

what I can't see any more:

that vision is still sacred.

A fragrance hidden in my hands.



I still reach you.

My mind touches the past

and your perfect beginning.

Some things are tattooed in sweet scars:

We bleed but they do us immense good.



Beyond this landscape I shall understand,

There must be valleys and hills, maybe

a rainbow or even a light in the end of

this tunnel carved out of black poems.



I wait.



The roots of my body thrust in this

unknown ground as I find you in the sleeves

of my hope.

But tomorrow is another day in this silent

calendar.



I wait.



Roses can still break open.

I will consider all possibilities,

I will think about noble things again.





Karla Bardanza








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