White Lily

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An oriental lily

wafts sweet scent

through thin air.

Speaking clearly

her spicy perfume

captures

my attention,

clouding

the white haze

of my grief.

 

White, the color

of death –

a dying flower

wrinkled,

paper thin,

yellowed,

her edges shrivel.

Only an emerald

pistil still

stands tall.

Brown pollen

Drifts aimlessly,

stains the luminous

pearl moon flower

that once was.

whole.

 

 

Working Notes:

I was given a bouquet of these most beautiful flowers a couple of days ago.

That same morning I dreamed that hope was dead.

The Fire moon was full this morning.

I am in mourning – for I must let go of a vision I held, perhaps, too close to my heart.

Grief has no boundaries, it swallows one whole.

I have disappeared down a rabbit hole

in the void of dark space.

 

Postscript 2

The male parts of a flower are called stamens and they usually surround the female pistil that contains an ovary at its base. The pollen from the stamens is carried by the wind and sticks to the sticky top of the pistil fertilizing the flower as it’s dying.

It interests me that the female parts of the flower dies last.

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