[Photo courtesy of Tinted Black Roses]
By Abdul Shaban
[abdoolmtyro@gmail.com]
Even at my darkest I still bloom,
At my lowest at my doom.
A lilly from the valleys,
A lone soul without allies.
I watch my shadow with delight,
Staring down from the height.
With happiness my face ignites,
Am not a bunch, not a bonquette.
Staring at what’s behind the wall,
Cuz I’ve been there I’ve seen it all.
A black rose that blooms on earth,
In a planet where am unheard.
Humming the melodies of the birds,
Making my way to unknown lands.
Inhaling the tender grapes with good smell,
For a soul that’s walked straight outta hell, yet sees the best in it all.
Like a dove that art in cleft of rocks,
Like a flightless bird whose wing just broke.
For so long I hid behind the stairs,
But now I rise with answered prayers.
A black rose I still bloom,
At my lowest at my doom.