I lie in the sun
and slowly open
one leaf at a time.
This is when
you see me,
in this simple way
on an ordinary day.
I soak in your
light and vapors,
take in your rich
words to the deepest
roots of me far
into the earth.
We find a spring
and share a drink
there. They think I
am shy, call me by
different names.
Bashful. Sleeping.
Shrinking.
I know you see me,
feel your longing,
let you touch me.
The touch of you
stings my delicate
leaves and I close.
The strength of you
closes me and in
this closing, I find
my destiny.
*'Makahiya' is the Philippine name for a grass that grows there. The word means 'shy' and describes a plant that, once touched, closes. In other parts of the world it is called Humble plant, Shame plant, Sleeping grass, Touch-me-not, and Mori Vivi (West Indies).
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