Dear poetry

I am waiting for you-

I have left the door ajar

and I planted the way with lavender-scented incense.

 

poetry, I’ve waited for you

under the pelting rain, and the blazing sun

no other refuge but your sudden embrace

that grips me off guard

and puts a plate of jasmine in front of me-

it’s lit with tufts of lurking sunrays

and anticipation.

 

poetry, when will you come

and save me?

I listen to the early-rising birds chirping their sweet ode

up the high cypress trees.

I watch the dry fig leaves twirl and gyrate

and I

Wait-

I wait for you to pronounce the experience in aligned syllables.

 

you left me with abundant beauty

vividness of light

depth of melancholy

and high of transcendence

but I cannot find you

and i need you-

do you need me?

 

(I’ve planted young basil seeds that my aunt gave me on a late Thursday afternoon

Basil is always good, she said

and I agree. )

 

Poetry is always good

ALWAYS.

 

Come then, for this poem is about to end

and I’m waiting.