To be innocent is to be entirely unknown, even to oneself.
- Djuna Barnes
I am free at last to be silent, to lap
In the quiet of your promise of promise
Like the pear tree in the garden which feels
But does not ask, why such beauty here?
On rainy monsoon days locked in
Wanting to explore the sea and the galaxy,
The tree beseechingly asking the rain,
That I may not be gauged from your gaze,
To be by one companion remembered,
Name scratched out on the asylum walls.
As I was cancelling out ideals
I saw in the forest the tumult of life.
The remorse of a nymph once a virgin,
The stars were there, but of accidental origin.
from IN MEMORY OF HER
Copyright © Rosemarie Rowley | Year Posted 2015
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