This evocative poem by Sarote Erasito uses the image of a feast to contemplate the complexities of love.
“The heart is most treacherous. Who may know it?”
Naive bud blooms: a feast for sore eyes;
a sumptuous, satiating spread
for the hungry flocking butterflies.
Blooming bud was told by friends and foe,
“Follow your heart to avoid the blues.”
She was wined and dined; flattered and wooed;
her heart fluttered and soared.
But, with each chime,
her petals drooped lower and lower;
her heart ached more and more.
The butterflies became fewer
as her hues became warmer.
Soon the feast table was deserted.
She had listened; had followed her heart
and got the short end of the stick.
Now, she’s a feast that sores the eyes
with a heart that sings only the blues.