In Hopes of Preserving - A poem

In Hope of Preserving What We Love

So much want for happiness
and yet, also, denial of it.

We approach the lips of the fuchsia
and then bend away, blushing,

because it is too close,
too fragile, we think, to be held.

Instead, we build fences around it,
place tanks and armed guards

all along the perimeter, in hope
of preserving what we love

from others we fear may come
with hazardous hands and crush it.

We do this with care, to keep
the fuchsia purple, not knowing

that what we have done is akin
to placing it in the desert,

which is where we have been
living ourselves