Roots
“The life of love may be
rooted deeper than its foliage and flowers can ever
show…” from AWAKENINGS by RL Sassoon
let the unspeaking sky witness,
enfold this sere thing: all my flowers
are done and if they have gone to seed
then surely blind luck is having its way with me.
my arms, once green in a spring wind,
droop earthward, fingertips leak out life --
it flees like a gazelle from the cheetah.
stamen and pistil, reborn in the afterlife
still have a job gracing empyrean meadows.
but here, I prostrate myself upon earth made richer
by decay and inhale deeply the
scent and secrets of moist brown humus.
and lie down to sleep
as leaf sisters pirouette down upon me
in their own spectacular swan song.
then the white weight of winter
will finally finish us all. That is
how it seems to you, who walk
over the remnants of our lives.
understandably,
you look toward spring.
but the metamorphosis
of the apparent into the potential
goes on in the underworld
of root and corm and seed.
and the illusion of this death
is ecstatically, jubilantly
shattered over and over
when the dormant earth erupts
in the shy verdure of spring.
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(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Welcome to AD, you're among friends, here. :)