"The Rose" by Roberta Hill, Oneida

published in Reinventing the Enemy's Language
~

To Rose

My sister, between us lie
fifteen rivers and a race track
and the weather here is snow and more
the same. Just when we thought
spring came, the rain grew fat
and fell twinkling on the muddy fields.


You always wanted to beat
the biggest burdens and took them
in your easy stride as you laughed
and cried against their weight.

Now your heart and body must meander
in another mode, so you can live,
my dear one. Toss your list
in a river and head east
for a while. Yes,
we've been dispossessed, but our dreams
keep strong our effort
to resist oppression.

Because you have the same spirit
as summer flowers, the land here
won't wake without you, Rose.
The sumac remains sullen
and his velvet buds can't break.
New songs can't struggle
against this constant snow.
Come home to the lakes
that love you. Flashing
waves will make you raise
your arms and shout with joy.
Come to ridges and fields
for the time
it takes to heal your heart.