My geraniums

“Memories return every time love approaches from inside of my heart to embrace the other. I cross the razor edge of vulnerability …. today is one of those days that I wish I could have removed myself from the face of earth.
I am lost in pain, my heart burns, long for him, the one that I love, my twinflame. This clay is tired of burning all the time in flames of the no ending love. Dear God, have mercy on my soul, burn me all the way, take me back home.
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust…Amen
16th July 2010”

My eyes sat alone,
In the empty room
Gazed into the shadow
Of memories of the lost love.
The dead geraniums were in the vase,
Left with no desire to stay or run.

Click, click, and click,
Our old wall clock sang.
The dried tension full of pain,
Found its usual, normal way,
Up through my blue veins.

I feel sad,
Where are they taking me,
The murmurs of the demon inside.

This winter is cold and dry
Sound less snow requires no attendance.
But heart is crowded,
No colours, no fragrances,
These tiny little needles,
Dig under skin, make holes
Full of doubt and fears.

There is no turning back,
One must arrange the burial service,
A year is passed,
All geraniums are dead now,
The vase is empty of life.

No one noticed when it happened,
I remember,
It was a new moon,
Happy and proud of her place,
In the centre of sky,
A new perception for a light.
On the same night, I lost my heart,
To keep my promise,
the repellent agreement with love.

Now, no roads seems far enough,
To take me far away from this shame.

I had no choice, but to return,
Close the window,
Bring down the curtains,
Cannot see the night,
But dark is all I become.

I have returned,
But where is this place?

Soul is pierced
With the letter “S”, in a centre of my heart.
The vase is empty,
And mourning feels so long,
Full of voids and sleepless nights.

Tomorrow will arrive,
Before dawn,
I must bury this dagger,
The one between my ribs,
I must heal my wounds,
Spring is on its way,
Cherries blossom is magical,
Full of healing colours of grace.

I must wash my eyes,
In fountain of forgiveness,
And plant new geraniums,
In a middle of the garden,
Right on the razor edge of love and fear.
Oh, yes, my vase will be full of life again.

But for now,
My mourning has no end.

© Serena Devi, Jan 2010, Thornhill Canada

2 responses to “My geraniums”

  1. Beautiful poem and hopefully that the new beautiful geranium of love will fill your vase and your life with a promise of a brand new beginning……..

    Btw, I just posted a blog about geraniums and this entry appears as a possibly related post :o)

  2. I am without word to utter for fear that I may stutter and mar the painful beauty of this place…

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