Calendulae Metaphor Poem by Samantha Bolden

Calendulae, Calendulae
Everywhere are gold for me
They suck away my worries
I eternally be thankful and linked to them
Bees are my confidants
It doesn't matter where I am
They are with me

My cat has a gentle soul
I hope I can be with her forever
Neurologists say my brain's alright
It goes walking when I'm asleep

Photographs do come alive
The pictured people disappear
I'm even left alone by the photographs

The window is staring at me
I'm tired and staring back
My cat watches the landscape
But not even her has something to see
Would I be lost in the Negev?
What about a bit of Manna?
I close my eyes but I don't dream

I feel stained and dirty
By this alwaysthesame
What happens anyway?
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
It was not clear where the echo came from
Bone horses are grazing everything
And I'm burning in my desire

My digits are sad
Because the ink won't flow
Perhaps there's red ink instead of blood inside of me
Calendulae would be the wreath of my forehead and hair

But I prefer them alive
The bone horses are withdrawing
Leaving the flowers alone

Sober colours hospital white
Gets me down
Warm and sunny colours?
Why isn't that possible?

You feel much more alone in the isolation room
Alone. What a terrible word!
Because of doubts I'm doubting
How fast can somebody turn into a moron
In an area without life
Routine, all the same, daily grind
O Calendulae, where are you?

Sylvia, Anne and Sarah
My most beloved Calendulae
Accompany me wherever I go
My dearest bodyguards
Orange is warm and plushy
Beautiful and perfect-
My Calendulae

I am only solaced by you
And still by the Calendulae
I want to sew a dress of Calendulae
And then I will whirl and turn around and around

O, life is heavy like lead
Many recognize this crux
And live on after all