The Water Lily Eyes

 

If I love them it is because of the cacti.
We are of that clan.
My mother, the spine, my siblings raw & prickly.
I am disquised as a water lily and float
in their grand oasis, not apart but sectioned
into whatever they think me to be.
Still imaginary in who I really am.
They are warriors and ragers that climb
taller toward the sun.
They eat themselves and each other and suck
flesh and water from their roots.
When they bloom I move closer and shift
my flowered pad into their line of vision.
I dream of touching them
in the spots that sprout nourishment,
but they are too angry in the heat.
Each believing the desert is a punishment.
Each believing the lily pad is an illusion
Having grown up determined
to cling to the mother spine,
they can see nothing
but the one sun.

Author's Note

the long practice of trying to fit in lament.

Reviews

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I don't know it feels kind of sad yet hopeful, That makes me ponder. How do people do this? You must have very strong poetic skills to master a write like this. This is wonderful.....xo