The Rosebud

You told me once,

something in you
was sleeping…and that I
had awoken
some depth of meaning in days
you had forgotten
was there…
 
Not so, darling,
I simply
set you off dreaming
again,
and helped you remember
how it felt to remain in the freedom of more
open than shut,
to possibility…
 
…and the more you showed me
all your frailties,
and the deepest scars of your wars,
the more I wanted
just to claw all the bad things off.
I gave you the beauty that you longed
to roll in; and the more I witnessed
something holy,
and beckoning,
grow fertile in your eyes…
 
So you see,
I didn’t wake you…
only came along,
and pulled off your disguise,
to show the world
the most exquisite truth…
 
Credit me none, my phoenix,
for what rose (already in bloom)
was all and only
precious,
and beautiful
you.