People are like flowers

People are like flowers
Dotting an otherwise monochrome plateau; 
A landscape predictable and bare -
A horizon flat, uninterrupted. 

Daisy, tulip, iris, snapdragon:
Bright or mute,
Unordinary or plain, 
Invite the eye -
They seem to say, 
"Do you see me? 
Do you really see? 

I splash color
I raise my head
I call for your gaze 
To rest on my beauty.

From afar you see only my brightness;
Up close,  my delicate, intricate detail -
My unique design."

People, delightful and diverse, 
Dot life's landscape
Intersecting doldrums
Painting days 
Splash hues bold or discreet
Blends never known to exist
Winning my gaze, 
Allowing my eye to rest
On those whose invitation -
Clear as a sunflower against 
A crisp, cloudless sky -
Speaks unabashed:

"Look at me. 
See me. 
Really see. 
I welcome your unrestrained awe."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Cry of a Mother's Heart

Image
  For Previous post, click here At this time last year I had sat up all night, driven the hour to Chicago, wondering if my child - man-child, but still child - would be alive to greet me on the other side. The moments in the E.R. were stunning, shocking, bewildering. I barely spoke a word. When it was almost time to move him to the helipad, I stood by Timo and stroked his head. In the previous few years he had not been very conversant with me. (Parents who have never had teenage boys: this is normal, not a sign of distress, but a development where they want to make their own way in life. This is not to say they don't need us, and our input - they do, but the dynamics change). I often overstepped bounds with him, and frustrated him. I tried to give him space, but there were times my fears took over. Our relationship was not strained - he knew I loved him, he knew my care for him. But Mothers are often not easy for teenage boys. There's hardly a way around that. We birthed them. ...
Read more

A Year Ago Today I nearly lost my son

Image
 You can see that writing for me has ground to a screeching halt (probably literally, in the literal, not figurative, sense). It happened a year ago on this day, one day after Timo's 17th birthday. One year ago on this night, it was a night like any other. Routine. Normal. Kids doing kid things. Caleb and Priscilla back in their first couple weeks of college, away from us. Timo working his full-time tree-trimming job. He had just had a nasty incident with a wasps nest that had caused his entire arm to swell and had to spend a day in bed with fever and chills. He had so many stings we couldn't count them. He was on the mend from that. He had been back at work just a day or two, and the night before we had taken him to an all-you-can-eat dinner which he enjoyed with us - laughing and choosing his favorite foods - mostly meat. We were doing okay. I always carry my own melancholy, and hold a world within me, a reflective, prayerful, yearning. So a year ago, I suppose life was as st...
Read more

I Continue the Telling of this past year (part 2}...

Image
For previous post, click here   The second night in hospital was worse than the first. The first night I was so shocked, stunned, almost disbelieving. It was a strange reality. The second night the anxiety storm kicked in and I was caught in the vortex. Not only was I up all night to keep him breathing, but fear overtook me. I worried about money - how we would cover all the medical bills we were racking up. I worried about Timo's recovery - his pain, his health, his rest, his soul. I worried about me. I run a depression-soul-fever in general; how could I possibly take on the round the clock care of a 17 year old who doesn't want help with anything?  As we encountered nurse after nurse and checked in with each doctor, they queried Timo about his life. Through a number of ups and downs, Timo had decided he would move on from high school and embark on working full-time and pursuing trade school, and possibly some community college classes in plumbing and welding. He had just fou...
Read more