She was the
Special WILdFLOWEr,
Grafted into shifting sands,
Ingenuous wide-eyes peeking
Out from the shadows,
Mindfully grasping at
Dragonflies and crayons;
A welling-up of pure intent,
Purposing to color in-between
All the lines of drab traditionalism …
.
Diligently she sought the
Beauty hidden in her sufferings,
Never wavering – never questioning –
Ingrained by almost everything but herself,
She became nothing to find something,
(As children, riant and dreaming,
Remained artless) so she
Sought humility’s
Cloak of collectedness
To influence the reverences she
Felt for what could never be understood …
.
But it
Was more
Than the grays
And shadows that
Clung to her each day,
It was the joyless tears of
Suffering coursing through
Her soul (as molten lava), and
All the appearances and effigies
Of possibilities that blossomed out from
The unknown regions of a malleable
Heart intent on pleasant melodies,
And the smile of ETERNITY...
.
But each day there
Remained (for her) the constant
Pains of loss, and making sense of
All betrayals that settled around her as
The dust of volcanoes… Still… nothing
Could dissuade her heart, and
.
She looked forward with hopeful eyes …
.
richard lloyd cederberg
2018

The ‘Portrayal’ series will be brief poetiprose insights about family and a few friends I grew up with. They will also portray some of the actors, artists, musicians, and writers that I worked with in college or professionally in my 20’s and 30’s. All of these individuals were instrumental in shaping the man I am today.     Poetry Life and Times