Since everything is blooming, why am I
still tightly clenched as if a frozen bud,
while blossoms are unfurling to the sky,
feeling like a stone or piece of crud?
Is there not life in me as in a stem
from which unfurls a plethora of petals?
Can I not too unfurl like one of them,
not be inert like plastics or like metals?
The warmth of spring inspired them to open,
but only Love can do that trick for me;
transcendent Love I’m putting all my hope in,
though it is something that no eye can see.
O, Love, my being is clenched as if a fist.
Help me unfurl like buds by sunshine kissed.


Mario A. Pita

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