through the night I dreamed of her
and three roses for my love -
the first dry as memory
fugitive, a concentrate
of beauty drawn tight to the heart
next a climbing blossoming vine
incarnadine in the dawn
mingled scents of spice and sky
and the last a winter rose
bare and barbed
in silence staunched against the cold
yet at the root
all the art of bud and bloom
Timothy Cahill - writer, photographer and editor of Art Conservator, the magazine of the Williamstown Art Conservation Center - is founding director of The Center for Documentary Arts at The Sage Colleges in Albany, New York. Tim blogs here, where - in his statement of intention, he writes "The Center for Documentary Arts is an initiative to increase humanitarian awareness and foster compassion through the power of the documentary arts. Documentary arts are those narrative forms of photography, film, oral history, theater, painting, poetry, etc. that address social themes and reveal the human condition. . . "
Three Roses moves me for many reasons, one of these being its acceptance of the heart's seasons. The poem lovingly illuminates the vulnerabilities and hopes inherent in our most intimate and enduring relationships. As with each and every truly creative process, love is asked to accommodate all weathers, including periods of what can seem like dormancy. Ah, and then the miracle of discovery. . . incubation; rich is the compost given over for its purpose - to break down the stubborn shape of things, nourish roots, promote growth in unseen places. . .
". . . yet at the root
all the art of bud and bloom."
For more Tuesday Poems, please click on the quill. Kathleen Jones (a recent winner in the inaugural Straid Poetry Prize) is this week's editor; she has chosen The Hieroglyph Moth - a beautiful, ephemeral poem by French-born, Welsh-based poet Pascale Petit.