Life, I still live you ...

 An invisible worm destroyed a rose.

It was the night of death.

A strange quietness filled every hole
and every gap of the darkness,

the walls and windows were yawning
and stretching in boredom,

and the roof reflected an anxiety of
an ominous, menacing end.

An end, 
so grotesque and murderous in itself;

I heard a sudden howl of a dog, ugly,

splitting the bizarre silence of the night

and a frantic scurrying and scuttling

of the mouse to escape a hungry jawline;

the moon was opaque and pale, divided into pieces

and the stars were some ugly wounds oozing out puss.

 that night

her soul was killed fragment by fragment

 hopes and dreams,
 sobbing
 in an abortive attempt to soar higher,

against her nameless mistakes 
and faceless errors

fell headlong on the ground

like a wounded bird whose wings were hacked.

Then why is it that the dew drops
still kiss the morning fragrance?

Why does she still nurture an unborn in her womb?

Why does she still feels as white and chaste as a lily?

No thorn or threat can stain her existence,

the spring still hides its beauty for her and

the buds still blossom and grow.

Now she sleeps peacefully tucking the lyrics

of her innocence and experience inside her heart;

she stands higher and confront the brutal eyes;

they ask her to weep in woe of death and misery

yet she sings and dances and is merry,

 the world could do her no injury.

O Mother earth! do not weep for her any more

she wont escape in your bosom sulking, as before

today she has conquered death,

now, she rises lofty from her grave and aspires.

 ... posting it for poetry potluck ... for the theme 'survival'
http://jinglepoetry.blogspot.com/2011/04/poetry-potluck-evolution-environment.html