Is this everything -
your name printed on paper
two bunches of flowers
and thirty-one people with your genes?
Stories don't live on a string of DNA.
Near Reykjavik, wildflowers grew on your war tales;
the eyes that saw them are now part of the air
and the ears that they told will be ruptured.
How much loss can flesh still tolerate -
until our own have followed us, into the quiet
of this place? I know it well - that printed name,
the flowers on the half moon terrace
when the flowers of Iceland will be gone.
Comments
MistakenMagic | June 5, 2009 - 17:28
This is stunning! Some beautiful images, my favourite being;
'Stories don't live on a string of DNA.
Near Reykjavik, wildflowers grew on your war tales;'
Also loved the line;
'and thirty-one people with your genes?'
A wonderful read and one I thank you for!
Magic xxx
sunshine | June 5, 2009 - 17:47
Beautiful phrasing and beautifully written. Margot
threeleafshamrock | June 6, 2009 - 10:51
Ditto the previous comments; 'stunning'.
Chris
DraxB | June 6, 2009 - 13:26
absolutely heart wrenchingly beautiful.
Nathan Bednarek | June 8, 2009 - 21:53
This is really beautiful. The poem is perfectly structured. Each line tells a story in a wonderfully captivating manner. A well deserved cherry ;-)
Nathan.