Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Wild Flower



 



So you stumbled upon
That wild unruly flower,
Borne out of mystery
And the mysterious forest,
Not heard of and not seen,
Not smelt and not kissed,
Not admired and not loved,
Inebriated with its own fragrance
Which heady and strong for you
Is fragrance nonetheless,
Unaware of its own beauty
Which singular and blinding for you
Is beauty nonetheless.

You found it odd and intriguing
That it did not stare at you
Prudishly from a flower vase,
Vacuously from a picture book,
Obscenely from a bouquet,
Expectantly from a flower bed,
Or sullenly from a wreath;
That it refused your patronage
Or to owe much to you;
That it insisted on openness
To the Sun and the rain.

But you were resolute,
To maneuver and to conquer.
To turn the wild prim and proper,
Fit for your garden of subjects
Not wild and not free,
Not unkempt and not unruly.

And so you brought home
To tame the wild flower
Which you planted sans its wilderness
Hoping to keep only what you like.

But now it runs amok
Ramifying into that same jungle
Bringing down your kingdom.
You rush to hack it before it kills
Your sweet roses and lilies. 

(This poem first appeared in  The Rain, Party & Disaster Society)

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