A Poem

Let them be as flowers Always, watered, guarded admired
 But harnessed to a pot of dirt
 I’d rather be a tall ugly weed
Clinging on cliffs like an eagle Wind
 wavering above high, jagged rocks
 To have broken through the surface of stone

To live, to feel exposed to madness Of the vast eternal sky
 To be swayed by the breezes of ancient sea
 Carrying my soul my seed beyond the mountains of time
 or into the abyss of the bizarre

 I’d rather be unseen,
and if then, shunned by everyone.
Than to be a pleasant-smelling flower
 Growing in clusters in the fertile valley
Where they’re praised, handled
and plucked By greedy, human hands
 I’ d rather smell of musty green stench
 Than of sweet, fragrant lilac

If I could stand alone,
 strong and free I’d rather be a tall,
 ugly weed.

 Julio Noboa Polanco-Identity