petals so fragile they bleed from a gaze

cover the ground as bruised pavement

their colors darkening with every footstep

sepia shading recalling other wounds

those we hurry past and try not to see

we all have blows we cannot escape

cuts and marks and tender scars

some heal and in their repair transform

a sharpened jag becomes an expansive heart

so that even the tear-strewn weary earth

awash with wreckage from violent storms

is suddenly overrun with flowers

I thought myself patient and wise, building this sturdy wall

brick by hardened brick around my fearful precious self

but that surround is made of glass and guards an empty space

able to be shattered by any kind word

every day I am cut by some sharp edge, some jagged self-delusion

that I still grasp to use as mirror to see my face

how long before I’ve bled enough to drop these shards

let go such desperate need and rest

no sight, no seeing, no being seen