An Examination of Lilies
These fresh bought Easter Lilies will perfume
on bookshelf changed to altar by the light
one large pink shaded petal leans to right
amongst another case in living room.
How blest in my opinion yet unread
a pilgrimage to the ancient garden
embraced by mummified Tutankhamen
these flower stories that remain unsaid.
The want of vain dew today your pity
on shore of Smith River California
where crops provide the world with Pink Lily.
Each flower bought to fill Holy City
engulfed in flame led by Santa Anna
what flowers will adorn old Chantilly?
A blue Water Lily along the Nile
ones carried to the Pharaoh everyday
each blossom engraved onto local clay
adorn these walls of ancient kitchen tile.
To drink the venom from a spider’s eye
and lose yourself again to altered sight
a momentary loss of will to fight
and hide behind the flowers bloom a sigh.
A strong feeling that an ill planet reigns
a time when seasons full of flowers fail
as crops to thrive on soil, never again.
An altar without its leavened bread grains
no flowers to absorb our mournful wail
an Easter Lily alone in a bin.
A bloom from the first flower of Adam
will find itself in trash can by the wall
to bring back Spring for seconds before Fall
remove the treasured blooms of Aladdin.
They speak to me hard as if a baby
their odor and their color play their parts
now upside down to dry like broken hearts
White Lily a seasoned leading lady.
Such a sad tale of Spirits and Goblins
unfold in Psyche as the flowers wilt
as definitions of beauty are lost.
When cultures lose the nectar for Robins
will congregation notice change of tilt
from beauty to mundane but at what cost?
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