Much there is in misunderstanding as in poetry Much there is in tending orchids as in self-love they do not want for pleasure or for romance, but only for the soft intimacy of being known by loving gentle hands when orchids wilt, they do not end but give up their beauty to return to the humble leaves and roots that form their better nature when orchids spit forth new growth they wander seeking loving air and feed on the trauma their trees forsake they feast on the silt that is unwanted that is their nature and also mine I am quiet, unexpected, beautiful like You, I am full of myself and so kind if only we knew how to be our love always but never do we always know how best to be for us, our selves let alone for others and others when even we love them so I am untended and need repotting. My flowers have dried up and my stalks wither like an uncertain romance. But there is still a deep love in me unbroken. thus, I would sip again, twin pools soft white orchids lying wilted there never such refreshment had I loved as the soothing muck of this jungle that bleeds deep unto the earth never such nourishment had I found as the unquenchable swell of truth that bleeds deep unto memory never such encouragement had I known as the endless lesson of love and living that bleeds deep unto knowing you
— for an uncertain romance and friendships well-practiced.
Author’s Note: This poem is the third and presumed final in a trilogy that was written over the past three years, a period of time that was difficult for me. I did not write much poetry then and so this is a cathartic and symbolic composition. It is as much an ode to my suffering and growth as it is an elegy for a relationship that was not always healthy for me or for the person with whom I shared it. I care deeply for them, love them still, and wish to honour our history in my practice here. I hope something in this composition speaks to the love you struggle with in your own life, Sweet Reader. Thank you for witnessing me.