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To a Scarlet Amaryllis

In one gloomy corner of this room,
You are standing like the wild
but tamed elephant at Shamumakhong,
With your soul shackled in an unsung plant bosom,
Your tall legs tied forever
to the confining tiny land—tell me,
Do not you envy the white ibises
their flight of freedom.
Your wildness is in crimson, unblushing bloom
in your holier-than-thou countenance,
in the red rage, as if you have been mindful
of the mindless bloodshed of my tribesmen;
Be cheerful, Amaryllis,
Be your yellow siblings tho’ in this nook
You will see them never,
Imagine how they are delightful
Even in the deepest winter
They can dream of an impending spring;
Leastways, be a tinge of yellow;
In this alteration and your new self only
will people write of you,
Putting aside the gods and guns and goons,
But appreciating you
Your unspoken joy and your cherry eyes:
What life is made of, but wild celebration.



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