Waiting for the hibiscus

I read this poem in an anthology of Texas poets that Naomi Shihab Nye edited, Is This Forever, or What? It has such a sweet feeling; it really makes me happy. The speaker's voice is so guileless, his words so simple, and although the poem is only a small window into his relationship with the person he's addressing, what he says - references to scenes we haven't witnessed, his obvious earnestness about their relationship - makes it a dimensioned glimpse, makes me feel like I know them.


Giant, Red Hibiscus

I wish you were here waiting with me in my mother's garden.
The early morning sunlight has splintered
through the fence, has every leaf glittering.

I am waiting for the giant, red face of the hibiscus to open.

And I would like to watch you watch the hibiscus
in early morning,
how it changes from some seemingly red, dead-looking thing
into the most beautiful bloom on earth.

I'm sorry, I forgot. I meant the second most beautiful thing.

How many times have you said
that I never share anything with you,
that I never tell you what's important to me?
Well, here it is. The hibiscus, I mean.

When I saw it yesterday for the first time I remembered difficulty.
And I wanted you to see it.

I wanted us to watch something open and not be afraid.

- Travis Ian Smith

Kelly at Writing and Ruminating is hosting this week's poetry round-up.