Somewhere on A1A...

Wednesday, June 26, 2002

The whole poem is posted here. by Linda Price, Jerusalem It's not terribly recent but it's entirely appropriate.

To Pick a Flower
There are so many flowers at Rami's house
There is one less there today.
I have had to console too many parents this week
Their flowers gone away.
Roi, oh, he was 20.
Smadar, a mere 14.
"Flowers," Israelis call them
Seeded, nurtured, watered, tended,
Picked too soon in their full bloom's array.
What is it to lose a child?
I cannot fathom the depths of grief and anguish
I have only my tears and that shaky knowledge
that there but for the sake... of
of what? Go I, and my garden in full bloom.
There are no words
only a very deep heaviness clouds my heart.
I am part of this turmoil and insanity
of loss, and the theatre of the absurd
where parents bury their children.
I am frightened
because I cannot change the ending.
This is like a horror movie
that I am forced to watch I cannot even close my eyes.
I instead hug that dear parent with all the strength
I have in my disbelieving body.
Neither one of us wants to let go
Can I hold you forever
Will that keep the pain at bay
No, I must let go
and return to the surreal reality
life somehow does go on
with less color in the garden
less fragrance the soft petals of youth
floating away
falling falling


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