Rose Poem by Gopikrishnan Kottoor

There was one in my small terrace garden today.
Garden, if you could call it a garden,
a few pots,
a touch of a bright periwinkle dying,
one sad looking sunflower
and a bouquet of crimson bougainvillea.

Small blooms, as though a little shy
of their own blossoming.
I have not seen
butterflies hover here, though there have been
many midnight executions
of waking seeds giving birth to their first leaves.

And now I see the one small rose
white as the side hood of a nun,
bending down in thankfulness to the sun,
rising,
a resurrected Christ in the morning skies.