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Rosehips
March 30, 2006
In another valley, the root
of nostalgia, even now
from this distance,
flowers open
to pearls of blood,
the heart about to turn
hard, like the knob
of a door left ajar.
Written by Maria Benet, of Alembic.
Categories: Lies and Hiding
Maria Benet
qarrtsiluni 
This is wonderful. I love all the dual body-flower words you use.
Wow; the feeling of “hard-heartedness” as central to memory, and longing; how we tend to crystallize a place, a person, into a fixed image…
Wonderful.
Beautiful, terse, condensed, and intense. Congratulations, Maria.
Wonderful. Perfect word choices, and none too many. Crystalline.
The door left ajar–neither fully opened, nor closed
as the source of great pain–is so startling and vivid.
I am always amazed and impressed by poets who use brevity
like a knife as you do here.
That mysterious opening line keeps making me reread it, round and round, from open door to valley, everything about to turn – taut. I like this poem even better than your last one.
Thank you all for these appreciative comments. I have been so swamped with life (and mostly off-line, too) that I haven’t had a chance to check back here until now.