A HYMN FOR ROSES (Poem)

A HYMN FOR ROSES

By Farah Lawal Harris, 2025

Roses, beautiful as they are,

ain’t nothin but trouble.

Put them in your garden and see

how pests come in droves,

eat up all your lil’ fruits and vegetables.

Wince when thorns prick your fingers

through thin garden gloves.

And pruning is an absolute must.

Roses, as beautiful as they are,

ain’t nothing but trouble.

They fade out in the fall

like hairlines during menopause.

You think I’m gonna put my life on pause

just to impress y’all?

Shiiiiiitttttttt….

I gotta tend to the garden I already got.

I already taught myself how to grow simple things,

reaped harvests both wide and thin.

Me, as beautiful as I am,

ain’t nothing but trouble.

I pour out libations through tears,

call on Ancestors to prune fears,

chase illness away with my prayers,

and still got the nerve to be surprised

when aphids come into my life,

and depression creeps in in the fall.

I still get surprised, y’all,

when buds come back each spring

like last season’s pain

never even happened.

I ain’t nothin but trouble,

got the nerve to stand pretty in summer’s heat,

draw butterflies and bees with ease,

and still be comfortable and glowing

in the rich skin I’m in.

It ain’t easy being a perennial,

whether grown in rich soil

or between slabs of cracked concrete.

Yet, we carry on,

thorns and all,

into the next season.

—

Written for Day 5 of National Poetry Writing Month #napowrimo