Like Van Gough in Saint-Paul

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Sometimes I’m a rose

planted in the battlefield of

the war torn heart

Or I’m a sunflower

shimmering with madness

like Van Gough in Saint-Paul

Or I’m a calla lily

Crippled by grief

whenever precious things disappear.

And yet

Sometimes I’m an orchid

Drawn to unbearable beauty 

and the fathoms of the fully ripened soul

which knows full well

that when the starry starry night finally arrives

Despite the consensus of the asylum

and the population at large

I will close my petal eyes

listen for the

Song of the earth 

and dream of endless wildflowers.

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