Tuesday, 15 December 2009
ROSES IN THE DARKNESS
Roses in the darkness
The tight buds pointed under my fingers
Slowly their petals unfold
Softness around a well of fragrance.
I bury my face and drink deep
Of that heavenly perfume
Which unlooses memories
Of the days of long ago
When I could see their infinite shades.
The pure white of virginity
So easily marred by rain.
The pinks of young girlhood
Innocent, shyly modest.
There, golden hues
Of laughing womanhood,
And the rich red fullness
Of maturity and experience.
Now as I feel those silky petals
My fingers bruise their loveliness.
Their perfume lingers as I pass by
My roses in the darkness
© Gillian Peall
I wrote this poem some years ago - it was a challenge, we were given the title, and asked to write a poem. This is what sprung out from my mind! I sent it up to a sort of Knock Out competition on the Guardian website once, but it got knocked out!
I think I was maybe a bit subtle - not everyone realised I was writing about a blind person. Actually, I was imagining a blind man, elderly, having difficulty walking, but enjoying the smell of his roses. Not sure what that says about me!
I have always dreaded going blind. Books mean so much to me. I am fortunate in that I can still see very well, especially now I have had a cataract removed. I don't know how I would react to losing my sight.
But we never know how we would react to a sudden loss of a sense, or an ability. Would we sit and moan? Get angry? Try to blame someone? Or make the best of what we had left to us? Probably a combination of them all!
Gloomy sort of blog for a gloomy sort of day! Honestly, I'm quite cheerful really, but blogging and procrastinating about getting the Christmas decorations up!