when dejected, abandoned, ignored, and feeling orphaned
you stoop to pick up a flower that lies furlong
and you take home that discarded flower
it breathes life that lights for an afternoon
you cannot give in to thoughts of who might be missing it
— a butterfly, an aphid, a bee!
where did it go, the bee will be wondering,
what happened to it, the aphid will say with a sigh,
when will it return, the butterfly will be lamenting,
where to did it disappear, tell me!
that flower’s absence changes the landscape
of those who’ve known it
but it landed in sight of you who needs it more
life entwined in the vastness of purposeful order
motions that come curled and whole to fit where they belong
for what is grand is the continuation
of what seems like unrelated incidents in the passage of time
amalgamating butterflies, aphids, bees,
and men who feel forgotten —
give them an afternoon of light and contemplation
to regroup thoughts, modify hearts
and help them go on in the knowledge that they’re not alone
***
Yesterday is history,
‘Tis so far away
Yesterday is poetry—
‘Tis philosophy
Yesterday is mystery—
Where it is today
While we shrewdly speculate
Flutter both away.”
~ Emily Dickinson
As I sit to write these words, someone close to me feels overlooked, unworthy of affection, and deprived of a place to call his own. As we talked, he told me how he found a bunch of ugly flowers discarded on the side of the dirt road and how he selected the best-looking one, took it to his room.
He stood the long-stemmed flower in a long-necked bottle and cared for it for the remainder of the day. To his amazement, the flower revived, and in no time, he came to feel better as well.
That simple story lit me up, that ordinary story needed to be told– it was then that this free-style poem came to be.
It’s noteworthy to realize how even things that seem so unrelated can bring solace and a ray of hope to our souls– even an ugly flower is entwined in the vastness of purposeful order.
The symbolism of an ugly flower is intentional. There exists no such flower in the whole of creation, as all flowers are ephemeral and beautiful. The ugly is the way he was feeling. He didn’t say, but I’m sure it ceased looking ugly after he came to feel revived.
I found comfort imagining it that way. Hope you enjoyed the poem.
THANKS FOR READING
I wish you miracles.
- Homage to Dante: What Ails Thee, Trifler? - December 13, 2024
- Do The Southerlies Come For The Wicked Too? - December 12, 2024
- Dectina Refrain: Tinged Living Lessons - December 11, 2024
STUNNING
You bless me with your enthusiasm, dear Mr. Ain, Sir. Thank you so much. I bless you back…