The Briar Speaks

By on Oct 25, 2015 in Poetry

Climbing roses outside a window in a stone wall

        Her curse was our period of glory.
            Everything became so quiet—no galling chatter
of humans, no jarring barks             of dogs, not even the buzz of a fly.
Only the subtle hum of our parents—sky and earth,
stretching       our    verdant vines,                       plush flowers,                 and
                                                      prickly thorns
                            between         them                 endlessly.
Oh! And our roses—petals soft as the feathers on a goose—thick as the bark
of the old oak,           to speak of their colors does nothing.
              How can one explain the shades of sunrise? Not pink, not orange
but a pool of both.                   Fibers reflecting light,         whirling   a
                                                                                                  feral brilliance.

    After the kingdom re-awakened,
    we were once again tamed. Cut back.
    Torn apart. Thorns carefully discarded.
    Thousands of our precious
    flowers scattered throughout
    the courtyard for the princess’ wedding
    day. Trampled on. Left to fade.


Gabriella M. Belfiglio lives in Brooklyn, New York, with her partner and three cats. She teaches self-defense, conflict resolution, karate, and tai chi to people of all ages throughout the five boroughs. Most recently, Gabriella won second place in the 2014 W.B. Yeats Poetry Contest. Gabriella’s work has been published in many anthologies and journals, including VIA, E*ratio, Challenger International, Pinyon Review, Radius, The Centrifugal Eye, Folio, Avanti Popolo, Poetic Voices without Borders, C,C,&D, The Avocet, The Potomac Review, Eclectica, Lambda Literary Review, The Monterey Poetry Review and The Dream Catcher’s Song. Her website is


  1. Lovely and so true to the progress of a few at the expense of the many.

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