This week’s topic was “dead” – a hard word to face in light of the recent passing of someone who played an important role in my life. So much is dredged up by the word, so many meanings, so many interconnected thoughts. And although this poem does not relate to recent events, my heart and prayers do go out to those left behind.
Hopefully, the poem isn’t “dead in the water” 🙂 (I like to deflect with humour)
Dead Heads
The fuchsia grows in its pot
A continuance of bloom.
Pale green pink baby buds
Butt up against pregnant pink ones
Preparing to blossom.
Tenderly unfolding flowers peek out
Between others – full and fragrant.
I pluck off the withered and wilted,
Dead heading the plant to encourage
New growth from amid the old.
As I was told to do once,
By a voice lost on the wind.
-Krina Ulmer
Chase the glowing hours 