This is a poem I wrote after my Dad passed away. I well remember walking in the winter and suddenly seeing the first crocus pressing up through the snow. I felt a sense of hope, and thought of the things we had loved in every season. Life does return. And when it’s no longer too painful, we can recall the best moments of it with joy.
This is for my sister, Charlene, and my friends Wendy, Chante, Toni and Maria who have suffered losses in the past few weeks. I hope it brings a little comfort.
I KNOW THE FIRST FLOWER
I know the first flower of spring
is creeping up between the clenched fingers
of winter and death and sodden decay;
that fireflies dance in summer hedges
delicate flickering lights that kindle
just for a moment, an ancient belief
in magic and fairies. Also I know that
trees will transform into sun-yellow, blood-red
breath-taking harbingers of fall
holding harvest moons within their branches
and bearing silent witness to the first soft snow
as it comes whispering down.
What I have to trust is that the time will come
when there will be no sorrow in remembering.