Once, I watched the moon rise over the Sandias,
the clouds pink with a sailor's warning,
and some miracle or other happened.
I sat still for a long time, near the warmth
of my grandmother's brick walls, and
though it was winter,
I could not be bothered to shake with the cold.
And I could smell the wind, and though it stung
to breathe, it smelled like ancient things, like
the sun setting or the first leaf falling, like
people being afraid but still being, and
I felt honored to sit there, in the wind.
And I saw a star emerge from the blackness,
and it blinked at me,
and...
and...
I don't know how I lived before,
only that I had never been here,
under this moon.
YOU ARE READING
Bent Roses
PoetryBent Roses is a poetry collection about familial devotion, love, and misery. It is about those nights when everyone gets home late and the first thing they say to each other is good morning. It is about believing in another person when you shouldn't...
