Tuesday, 29 April 2014

The Zen of Yellow Roses

When a loved one dies, a part of us dies also. Yet, my experience of death has been that, even as time passes, the worst of grief fades, and memory may even start to play tricks on us, love sees us continuing to share in the experience of loving and being loved, the quality of our inner life is all the better for that.  

In the language of flowers the yellow rose is for remembrance. What better icon then for the mind to click on at birthdays, anniversaries, whenever loss makes itself especially felt, than a yellow rose, and let flower the bitter-sweet joy of a happy memory risen above its thorns?

This poem is a kenning.


I bring truth
where imagination would feed
on fear and speculation,
engage with those seeking comfort
and reassurance
in far darker places than even
Orpheus searching
for his lost love in the bowels
of the Earth

I combat the terrors
of sleepless nights spent tossing
and turning
in early hours with no respect
for human dignity
or a desperation feeding
on such crumbs of hope
as left out for birds in winter
at its worst

I bring a lasting sense
of peace to mind, body and spirit,
where shadows
gather like key conspirators
with intent to kill,
yet kept at bay by a natural
instinct for survival,
struggle though it may against
hellish odds

As a rose its thorns, I’ll rise above,
who am Closure, ever open to love

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

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