White Petals

About a month or so ago I found my way to the Bronx Botanical Gardens. I had never been before, and was very curious for what was to come.
The special exhibit was about Frida Khalo and La Casa Azul. I walked down a long concrete path, boardered by flowers and various types of plants. The day, to my surprise, was very warm. People were around, mostly grandparents and disabled persons, but I was alone. The visit was intended to complete a project, but much more was taken from it. Much more.
There was a sudden boost of extreme euphoria that arose within me while I strolled along the skinny routes that led deeper into the gardens. It did not seem that I could still possibly be in New York City.
Images of my garden and trails I had gone down in my life came to mind.  And this restored my confidence in something, something I have yet to recognize, but know I will soon eventually. For being here, I find that I have already come to many realizations.

It’s difficult to explain
where I stand right now
there a bee whizzed by
and it did not stop to say goodbye
I can’t remember if there was even a hello.

I searched around
in this garden of peace
and unfamiliarity
to discover that there is little desire
other than love.

And that was what I thought
that was what I grasped from this place
so here I float
high above myself
to watch what unfolds.

In one instance, I knelt down and touched a very petite flower. It’s petals were a creamy white color and I rubbed them ever so slightly. Oh, how soft they felt between my prints. That was all I cared about. How simple it could all be.

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Yet it is all so complicated..

One thought on “White Petals

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