The Glass Vase

I would like to forget
the moment of my birth;
after centuries
in agony, I woke hot-blooded
and glowing with marigold light.
Slowly, I drew in breath
and have been holding it
ever since. Shall I curse my hesitation?
Believe me, I have much to learn
from you, forgetful ones who exhale
without thinking, who are always
putting yourselves back
together: I am so afraid
of emptiness.
Someday, like you, I may sigh.
I may sprout flowers from my belly
to fill my mouth.