Petals

Some people get old before they’re old.

Life’s pain spins an exoskeleton
that restricts
and chokes,
and bends the spirit into frozen shapes.

Rejections, disappointments, not-havings,
regrets, unforgiveness, retributions,
judgements, indictments and sorrows,
all contribute to the hardening.

A life without mercy is a prison.

Other people are like roses, climbing wooden fences,
luxuriating in the sun,
opening, opening, opening,
to butterfly tongues, bee proboscises,
Intoxicating other noses too,
in uncalculated generosity.

These blossoms
open open open
soften soften soften
lose their color,
lose their form,
droop and wither,
relax their hold until
their petals fall away.

The memory of these folks
are as petals pressed in pages
fragile, fragrant,
immutable.