A Blessing

By André M. Peñalver - Yakima, Washington, USA - 24 May 2015



A rose --
We’d stop and see --
But clamoring day
Bellows and cleaves
And rose’s red grows dark.


But poet
Slips the day
To dream the red,
Go mad with red,
Scream the red to all.


And priest besides,
Unmoved by day,
Humble and slow --
Enough to see
Each stroke of red revealed.


May you be a poet-priest,
Mad and slow
Until you give,
Until we see,
Prime Painter of the rose.