Comment on this article

I See Myself
by Ruth Sabath Rosenthal

A blossom, sprung from earth-
enware, growing wildly. Fast-
forward to when that flower,
pedicle-heavy with dew seeping
into the roots deep in soil that nourish
the petals, now rides the tail end of a brusque breeze
carrying the flyaway bloom far from the most steadfast of
stems. And I see myself soaring, feeling the winged glide
all birds have known. The drift upward, uprooted, free
of my dark sapping foundation. A petal flown,
destined to land in some unbroken
stream of consciousness.









 

Return to: