Dear rose,

 

A hero that carries us all—

Willing to caress us with a tender heart.

Your sweet embrace is what holds lost pieces together.

 

              The Valley of the Rose.

 

Your layers hold the stories of the ones untold.

The heroes gasping for their last breath of sacrifice—sound within your thorns;

Inhaling the aroma of a fresh freedom. 

Your thorns serve as a knight for us all—

a shield against the hidden roots.

You hold the truth that lies deep within your soil.

Releasing the burden of unspoken words—

Words you yearn to hear to ease a heavy heart.

Barriers stranded between us as time is lost;

             You speak of forgiveness.

 

            The Land of the Miracles.

 

They see the liveliness within you—

Leaving you feeling lovely—always.  

Your dreamy chestnut eyes hold no limits—

They hold the laughter that escapes all evil.

Sunsets of sunflowers shape in your safe haven.

Planets rotate as our wild heartbeats race—

The night sky shines above us; constellations of sincerity revolve on an axis of relief.

Our imaginations flow freely of gardens—

Gardens that you are the light of.

Stars as bright as candid smiles—

You hold our hearts whole.

 

           The rose no longer withered.

 

Your gentle petals—

They purify a path to closure.

They open up to the security of new beginnings.

Lovers crossed paths in your bless-ed land.

You were the snow that lied as two silhouettes joined to create their own precious petal.

Nine delicate months later,

I joined your valley.

 

A seed thrived into the complexity of a flower—

Nourished and shining.

Brighter day by day.

 

Three years later, the raindrops fell upon you—

The purity of a childhood had long departed.

The Black Sea roared rapidly as

presence spun to absence.

The painful night I left home,

your lively scarlet petals fell apart to burnt coal.

Goodbye, my rose empire.

 

Home was never sweet again.

 

09:22 am—

The skyline looked over the garden of 1,908 roses.

Seven hours later,

the night grew silent.

5,719 miles away.

 

A garden effortlessly blossomed.

 

I have returned home.

You hold a melody within your gentle embrace—

A melancholy of inevitable goodbyes.

 

One Bulgarian Rose—

Takes an oath to carry on your everlasting legacy. 

 

The beauty of a motherland

lies concealed within you.

Your petals remain an infinite memory—

One we will proudly carry as a

token deep within our souls.       

On every journey.

 

My heart beats with the warmth of home—

                  You are home.

 

                     Bulgaria—

        Forever the land of the rose.

 

                                 From deep within my valley,

                                                     Ani Anastasova