Giant rose

She grew so much
somehow
that she became as tall
as a small tree.

But instead of looking down
on other flowers
she shined discretely
among the foliage -
she was a beauty
no one could see.

Some said:
Serves her right
for aiming so high...
Now she can only
be seen from the sky!

But all she wanted
was to survive:
she had stretched,
and fought,
she had reached out
for light.
She had merely done
what seemed to be right.
And she had cried
and doubted herself
at night;
she had been afraid
and alone,
almost gave up
the fight.

But now,
finally,
she could feel the sun
on her smooth petals,
She was filled with strength,
confidence and glee.

She did not care
if others could see.
All that she wanted
was to live on,
caressed
by the generous breath
from above,
and to offer,
in return,
her glowing beauty,
her being,
her best.

She was overjoyed,
she needed nothing else,
she could rest:
she had reached
the end of her quest.

She was home.
She was blessed.
This was love.

Nous

Nous.
Un mot si simple
qu'il passe inaperçu
dans le lexique de la vie.

Cependant,
il a une complexité magique,
trompeuse
illusoire.

Ce n'est pas primitif, le nous.
C'est le résultat des efforts complices
des soins patients,
d'un équilibre agile
fragile
mais si gratifiant
si révélateur
si beau
qu'il transforme
le tu et le je
dedans et autour
le monde et le jour:

Tout devient
totalement nouveau.

Exuberance

It may be early, still
I may be mistaken
and fall flat on my face
to my shame.

But I long for the thrill.

I want to be taken
into your secret place
of which I know nothing
                                      (not even the name)
and be guided and taught
tasted and bitten
grabbed, perhaps shaken
(Yes, I want you to tame me
and I trust that you will)
made to expose
all of my flaws
and my deep hidden blame
which you will kindly
                                          lovingly
unfold.

And then, of course,
I want tenderness too:
to be embraced
kissed and caressed
warmly possessed

so as not to return
to my world.