Skyward

I kept her deep inside my head: A grain
of rice that rattled free one night and fell
atop the freedom land I prayed deny
her. Starving, I kept her for myself, stored
away, that fate may chance me with a storm
and wet the cloistered plot saved for her.

On fertile ground, she chose to sprout
without me. She found life elsewhere.
She grew tall, over 50 feet of emerald
sinews tempting me up.

I climbed her stalk to reach her face:
I grabbed her hair, hand over hand, and went skyward.
I sank my hands in her hair as I did
when dreaming of kissing her and combing black
strands with my fingers.

I reached her lips and pulled my face
above the crest to peer into her mouth.
I saw a pink pillar of rose petals.

I moved to kiss her, to tell her I can love her
more in freedom's rain than in my sunshine.
I leaned in to whisper my confession,
expecting her breath to smell of rose blossoms.
Instead, I tasted earthy water, drinking her reflection
as she walked away.