Image by monikasmigielska on Pixabay

Frailty of Love in the World of Nasturtiums

~ marsh water, brine, poison, rain~

I watched pain

As it made

Crystals in my eyes;

As it grew, saw it

Melt to form sweat on

The cheek of my heart,

And like a nasturtium leaf

In the rain,

Did not know I would

Feel it, till its weight

Was upon me.

Pain rolled in brilliant drops

Down veins and capillaries

Gathering strength, became

Candescent creme de menthe,

Overflowed pliant spillways;

And I was the sunset flower,

Immaculacy of saffron

Tight upon flared lips

Under a green parasol’s

Shadow, and I drank what poured

Into my mouth, as what

Grows under the sun will

Drink whatever comes their way

In the leanest of lean seasons —

Marsh water, brine, poison, rain.

Image by anaterate onPixabay

Yes — You loved me.

You loved me with ignescent passion.

Yes — You loved me,

Free from fear of folly’s transactions

Yes — You loved

Yes — But


…And yet

Had you come to me

And cried “I am an orchardman

But have no trees!”

I would have said,

“Take all of mine

But a few, so that I might

Build a boat of rosewood

When our voyage takes us

Beyond life, where

There is no road but an ocean

Of constellations,

An arena for Draco,

Aquila the eagle…

A sapphire chamois bivouac.

On it a solitary silver sequin,

The moon, moving

In a sky made of

Velvet petals loosened

From a dark iris, and

Clouds with burning edges

Scattered on transcendence.

Where there are no roads, only

A foundry ringing with reincarnated stars…”


I did not know…

I did not know you were

The immaterial stalk

Full of corrupt sap,

Of a weed that clings

To frailty at water’s edge and

Leaches many journeys —

I did not know,

In a tumultuous celebration

Jubilant at its

Unprecedented journey,

I was that unnavigable

Deluge that a riverbank

Held with bruised arms.

The knowledge

Of what you did not know

Becomes the baptism that stills

The heart of betrayed blood.

Farida Haque

Image by stux on Pixabay

Multimedia artist, writer, poet. ‘Celebrating other lives, I am a sparrow in the shadow of a rosebush...’

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