Empty

March Nineteenth

Slow, fat raindrops fall

quivering delicate limbs

Pink petals flutter

Awake

clarity

March Twelfth

The flowering trees

reach branches with tight new buds

to the sunless sky

Untitled II

A dozen cut roses.
Delicate pink children
severed at the knee for my admiration -
Beauty on demand.
How differently each responds to its destiny.
Some cling to their bud-like form as if frightened sacrificial virgins.
Others rush into full-bloom and death
with an abandon only the condemned can know.
Yet, some still take the time to open slowly,
with purpose.
Indifferent to the fact that they have been cut off from their life force,
they draw from within into bloom
with dignity and defiance.
Fulfilling their life's work
despite what they know
or because of what they know
but without hesitation or excuse.