by Candice Ann Moraga
How could one scorn the blossom, in the bud, having yet to bloom?
When all it needs is a little love, some space to grow, some room?
As the misty tears from my retina clears, I glance once again towards my oak
Love-struck and blind - I had leaned on a sapling!
From my hopes and my dreams, I awoke
He had not the strength to give me support, though not due to love that was lacking
I realized the weight of grave purport - the sounds of his limbs that were cracking
I could not laden with leaden vexation, my troubles, and all my concerns
Hoping, through excessive aggravation, to the truth of my heart, he discerns
Abstaining, I will not crush my beloved, finding strength to stand on my own
Courage can be compassion - Remember the wisdom I've shown
Time reveals the essence -
She's no easy mistress to weather
Some grow strong; some grow weak
But it's a long time until forever
Fierce hearts only grow stronger - Sensation with each palpitation
Pulsing its beats with conviction - Mine throbs with unending duration