Roses, poetry written by Rosie Persiani at



written by: Rosie Persiani



My mother
Never braided flower
Strands into my
Dirt colored hair.
Instead she care-
Fully placed
Sun rays in my
Eyes that rise and
Set with the
Phases of the

She threaded rocks
Into the beds of my
Fingernails so my
Written work will
Be final, be hard. Harder
Than the vines grip
On my arms and legs
Holding me up.
So, I will never fall.

My father sits across
From me buried in stacks
Upon stacks of books and says,
“Read these and they
will fill you with light.”
I eat those words and say,
“They taste like sunshine covered
in dirt.”

He says, “Life
Is about a balance.
There are times when
The darkness will fill you
With mold. Let it.
Because how you clean it
Will depend on where it grows.”

My darkness slowly transforms
Into moonlight, painting my body
With constellations of scars.
But, the moon beams kiss each
One and the vines give a squeeze
Reminding me that they’re there.

My mother whispered the secrets
Of the earth into each piece of hair.
My father made a crown of roses
That he placed on my head.
They said, “We started a bridge,
And it’s up to you to finish it.”

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