Rose

This is a poem I wrote in Myra Shapiro's workshop after the "portrait exercise". This year the them is "what shapes us" and our poem is Romanesque Arches by Tomas Transtomer.

She is a rose.
Once her roots snaked down into dust and sucked hungrily.
She grew wise without growing old.
She is a rose.
Plucked from the ancient garden
from earth loosened by loving fingers.
Now she will bloom forever
behind a glass
encircled in gold
bejeweled with precious thorns