Poem 15 on day 15. A day with personal meaning for me. My mother would have been 65 today, had she not rushed into that burning pet shop to save all the animals from certain death. A salutation to JEB in the Granite State. Your mischievous and clever invoking of U2 imagery helped give this poem wings, petals, and thorns.
“Desert Rose š¹”
How does a desert rose grow?
Does anyone know?
In order to survive,
To live, spawn, and thrive.
Roots deep down inside.
Among soil so dried?
Fierce determination.
Churning fixation.
Power overĀ choice.
Heralding voice.
Leading the march.
Notable heart.
A pinch of spite.
A lifelong fight.
Growing up, upward still.
Fixing stems and leaves at will.
Your color juxtaposed,
In landscaped sepia tones.
Sticking out.
Richly proud.
Stretching roots deep.
Insistent for your seeds.
The chances for them best.
Thorns at times deep pressed.
Yet, theyĀ found noĀ traction.
Despite, your reaction.
Growing, despite the pains.
Your span withstood the rains.
Showing a beauty, a radiant light.
A lesson, gained insight.
Dedicated, to your duty.
All the time, including,
What best part of you,
You could imbue.
Love in the light.
Love in the fight.
How does a desert rose grow?
Does anyone know?
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