Sleeping Beauty

baby iris

 

Long has she lain,

poisoned by an apple

that should never have reached Eden.

The kiss, when it comes,

stirs,

wispy, a dream that eludes

upon rising;

it revives the tender recollection

that she waits,

not for an awakening,

but for a

Resurrection.

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Hosta, Hosta, Why Do You Fight?

Hosta, hosta, why do you fight?

The raindrops are tears that can wash away pain.

They roll off your tissues and soak through your veins.

They baptise your roots til the sun shines again.

Hosta, hosta, why grip so tight?

Let the drops fall, they can water your will,

Teach it to dream and to drink to its fill,

Cause it to hope and to grow fuller still.

Hosta, hosta, why not let go?

Learn to see diamonds in each drop of rain,

Take in the scent of the freshness you gain,

Let it caress with renewal’s refrain.

Hosta, hosta, pain’s not your foe.

 Rain is a gift that will deepen your faith,

Cause your revival ¬†from winter’s dark grave,

Bless you with courage to live free and brave.