Wednesday, December 30

The Flower's Response

Then sat I there in ponder of this breeze,
to tell me so securely of unease,
To open up its trust to me and tell
that wilting flowers makes it so unwell.

I thought about how I could help this flower
if only I did have some omni-power
I then could stop all flower from its wilting
from worm, from weed, from seasons earthly tilting
I turned to ask the flower of its thoughts,
and here in keeping is its own response
"Kindly, flower, tell me, what would make you last? What would keep you strong? Would it erase the past?"

It replied,

"Twas darkness full, the whole world dull,
All dark and gray and cold,
No live thing grew, no color hue,
No purples, greens, and gold.
Each dead thing crawled on belly sprawled
It fed on its own death
Pulsating from its barren womb
And unforgiving breath.

Up from a stone amidst two bones
Came one eternal piece
Of goodness, beauty, incarnate,
Of love and happiness.

This piece alone fought stone and bone
To bring each death to life.
To take each tomb out from their womb
Make spirit from the strife.

Then birth was found and from the ground
Those bones were made to flesh,
To consciousness, to breath to bliss,
Mistakes, and forgiveness.

But this flesh cursed its own new birth
For life there wasn't easy.
"What's all this for?" it cried, it swore,
"This place is so unpleasing."
But on it lived, limbs bones and ribs,
Discovering creation.
It painted trees and swam the seas
And found natural elation.

And from its song, more flesh came 'long
To search for life's own meaning,
To clear the rubble, heal the trouble,
Bandage each's bleeding.

"The flower paused, here at this clause,
And single petal shed.
"Why is there something versus nothing?
Life and not the dead?"

I looked with tear on flower so dear
To see that it, too, wondered,
Why love? Why life?
Why death? Why strife?
Why lightning? Why thunder?

But as I cried out all the why's
The flower's petals grew
Out from the ground under its mound
A tiny sprout anew.

"I choose to live this anyway,
I choose it new each day.
We've transformed death into this life
And that is much to say.
Just maybe someday life will be
Living deep love continually
And by our own creativity
Great Death its own sweet death will see.
I cannot give the outs and ins
Of Time and shy Eternity
But I will live despite the sins
Of God and his humanity."

And then the flower lost solar power
And folded up with grace
To face another breezy shudder
In all the following days.

And breeze and I stood by and by
With many thoughts to ponder
Of evening shade of grass and blade
Of flower and its wonder.

Dec 20,2009

When we weep, we don't weep we
When weep we, weep we alone.
When we weep, weep we only I
And I weep I weep don't we when


He wept: salt dripping skin tasting tears
blurry eyes puffy red ears
scratchy throat tensing talk tightened neck
gasping air convulsing lungs ribs breath
gag once twice calm catch slow
puddle dirt shaking hands elbows

"Lazarus, come forth."


The closing blackness all around does come
The sinking heart and feeling fingers none
And when the cold goes back and forth with warm
All will be done, oh! not quite well, but done.
The fading picture loses touch around
And focuses on imagery anew
The timeline different, even almost gone.
A hand from nowhere, me it does cry to.
What, what was that? What is a hand doing
Grasping my foot with yelling screaming tears
While one more grabs my arm and while pulling
Pours music pure and sweet into my ears?
       A life in heav'n is not a life in hell
       But hope does wish my family's doing well.