The Flower Of Wounds Poem by Abdul Wahab

This is not the star
Of the sky

Nor a fresh flower
From a garden

Yet the vase of the my heart
Like a Japanese

I decorate
With the gift you gave

In the form of hurt
I let it

Bloom from bud into a flower
And very carefully

All the time I look after
I protect it

From the scorching sun
Daily in the morning I give water

In every moment
I smell its intoxicating fragrance

The moon vie
With the Excellencies which lie

In its tiny colourful petals
And held the glory of the height

In green of a hill
I feel inspired in blue

And white tells me to be courageous
Like a gust of wind

Black gives me safety
From the envy eyes

Red is my strength
I show and brag

Against the starry sky
The Memories crowed in

When I see pink
In yellow it reminds me the pain

Wounds become fresh
When I see violets

Yet I hold the stalk tight
Against the morning sun

With a farm belief that
It would end well.