Damask

She wasn’t just any rose,
She was the whole damn garden
Yet, you couldn’t see past her thorns.

Patient, she waited for you to notice
Her love- abundant.
In sunshine, she bloomed
In rain, she folded herself

Her scent drove you mad
Crushed, she oozed hot-sweet pleasure
Green tea and lemons,
A spoonful of honey.

Her touch, intoxicating
Soft as velvet, artful
You swore you’d found heaven
Every beat of your heart pulsed for her

And now you sit, your mind like a moth flickering round a flame
Trying to re-capture the scent of your rose, the feel, her look
Yet, you were the one who cut her down

She’s gone
Only to blossom in memory.

 

~damask

I believe in miracles

The unseen hand of divine agency,

manifesting hope of extraordinary wonder

 

This is why I believe I’ll find you again

Against all odds

Standing outside a doorway or inside a crowded coffee shop

 

You’ll smile and say, ‘What took so long?’

 

And that will be it.

I will be home.

 

 

You ask, “Who am I?”

You are,

The pieces of every woman who came before your time

Scraps of chintz, lovingly stitched together

Calico cloth from an Auntie’s tattered dress

Pearl buttons cut from a Grandmother’s worn sweater

Poetic whispers in the night

A prayer to the stars

Oil and water

Loss and Love

These women formed you whole

 

How do you honour their brave?

By making yourself small?

By silencing your voice?

No, darling

 

Find yourself

Each scrap, soft as velvet

Each stitch, strong as rooted willow

Be an everlasting reminder of who you were, who you are, and who you will become

Beautiful, brave, kind

 

 

~Brave women, Ancestors