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Decomposed Garden
here
i am back now
in this silent garden
of sunset and deep shadow
growing on shrubs and trees
this garden with its sorrow
pruned back into defoliation
oh yes you know this place:
this garden with its narrow
paths cobbled with memory's
pebbles of deflowering
i rest my body in green ferns
my tired feet
my aching limbs
my pounding pulse
slowly becoming fertile soil
yes: this body sheds its sheen
its whispering voile
its fingerprints
this yearning heart
turns into a shooting star
forgetting its wishes
(a body
trampling on yellow gazanias
a soul
caging the Sun
within a disembodied rainbow)
myra
2002
From compost grows the puriest rose
and the rainbow that now decompose
sleeps during winter until spring
and blooms again to destroy suffering.
I feel this poem and it hangs as a weight
around my heart and sinks it to the bottom
of the sea...