A Poem

By Evan Pausic

speak the language of flowers

remember when your mother’s hand

touched your sickly forehead 

the world watches 

and is blind 

I can see the top

a snow capped mountain

we only know the outlines

of what we see

I see the flower

in fire on the terrace 

I see the flower 

shining in your eyes

I see the flower 

in the mind’s blackness

I cannot say what it is

it is in bloom

4 thoughts on “A Poem

  1. What a beautiful poem Evan! I feel like I am there seeing the very flower in bloom along the trail with you.


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