Wednesday, April 24, 2013

This year after bloom season

This year after bloom season
comes time to dig and trim the irises,
for they are choking

It’s so easy, though, to let them be,
to let the tops die back,
and the weeds

Yesterday among them
could be seen rhizomes thick
as a young man’s arms,
one atop another.

And a young woman’s arms
could be seen, for they were seen,
lovers coiled in spring.

Child atop a mountain,
soon the flowers will come,
and the graves will be
hidden once again.

The uncle I never met
was born on this day.

His name is on a cross,
surrounded by other crosses,
in a field of crosses,
in Italy.

The irises are choking themselves.

A shovel’s depth is all,
the illusion of a world to gain,
the unturned page
of a fairytale.


erin said...

yes, the irises are choking themselves but is there not an honesty in this? i don't know. i don't know what is honest or not, or even what that word might mean. i get lost inside the possibility of it.

i owned a home for ten years and for ten years the home was many different lifetimes. in the beginning i planted irises. every year i looked out my kitchen window and meant to tend them, planned to tend them, could not bring myself to tend them. in the end they were thick and beautiful, but yes, choking themselves. i sold the home and moved away, but not too far. i am only streets away.

i can feel something quake beneath the soil. i don't know what the right thing is to do. it is no longer my job. (was it ever?)

you seem to be unfolding once again like a leaf into a new season. it is a very beautiful thing to witness:)) thank you for this opportunity.


William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Erin. Honesty is a way of reminding ourselves that we may no longer be here when digging time has come.

Jan (The Crooked Candle) said...

Beautiful and sad, William as it so often is in this world in which we try to survive~


William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Jan....