Reaching for a Rose

Chris Camarata MD


I see you

with the slowing of your gait

the change in your gaze

I hear your breath rush

into you

when you remember

when you feel the loss

like a deep stab

piercing the fleshy tip of your finger

from a thorn on the vine

I’ve felt the thorn’s jab

but it doesn’t matter

each bush is different

what matters

is that you are seen

you are heard

by another


I pray

a rosebud grows


on the tip of that spiny shaft

and unfurls to show you a color

that had never existed

may the soft curve of its petals

the subtle sway of its fragrance

bring you comfort



Included with the permission of the poet.