I refuse to let your anger
sit in me and fester
and your judgments to cloud
my own truths and self-worth.
Rail all you want against me
but my respect for you was lost
the moment your unhappiness
lashed out at me
in the most small-minded
of ways.
what does your heart carry?
not the sadness of others
nor their sweet words
closed to even joy
willingly overflowed
and spilt
I pray you are
your own spring
and that you are never
empty
How strange
that we create tales
of robots who feel
Who wonder and love
and rejoice in all the
emotions of humanity
When so many of us
plod around like automatons
hearts frozen to the cries of others
and to the cries
of their own
Laughing flutes and violins that cry
Why do we find music beautiful?
Because can we see ourselves in it
each breeze
cut across
the blade edge
of your heart
and
moved
some internal
mechanism
I could never
fathom;
you were born
in a city
of windmills.
I no longer
Have the energy
For anger
Or hate —
Only this uncaring.
On the hill, the sky is promised
Over the sea, the horizon of a fantastic land
And in your laughter, eternal joy carouses.
Yet, between the space of our joined hands
Resides the feeling they are merely shades of.
This blanket of silence
Smothers tender feelings and hopes
But if I fail to yell
Who shall hear me?
At least the mountain echoes my thoughts
Perhaps we were both awaiting
Each other
RED GLADIOLA 