By Jazmine Nieves
I stand in the garden
Watching my sisters smell the Roses,
Plucking strong scented petals
As my brothers caress delicate Lilies,
Coaxing the snowy beauties with sugared words.
I find myself drawn forward—the scent
Of Roses causing me to draw close, bending down
Until my nose and lips touch the pink head,
While the Lilies beckon me with sweetness
To caress their shivering buds, gleaming with dew.
I dance through the garden
Arms a vase for all the beauty offered,
Called selfish in my need by my siblings—
Yet my Love for Nature’s entirety
Cleanses the stain off my gentle white hands.
Image credit: Kristin Brown