High on Spring Blues

I wrote this poem a few years ago, on the first spring after my little brother flew out of his flesh and bones. I remember thinking that loss alters the way most of us relate to everything… even the changes of the season.   

.
There’s birdsong on my page…
words I planted in midnight soil
are blooming memories of you.

Louder than death and time,
your soul sings to me of life:

“Dance your sobs
into undying laughter,”

I hear you chant,

“let the joy lift your heart
(high on Spring Blues)
and stitch our eternal tale
on the ventricular walls
of my forever home.”

.
Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Thorning My Heart

He lives in the mirth crinkling your eyes, the rose says. I sniff in her words, invite the scent of each sound to carve itself in my bones. My blood feeds on old realities. This flower isn’t sick, my heart says, but my scars and I have trouble trusting tales told by a rose—so many layers… Sick or not, I think, no one knows what lies within, where souls and stories of living and dying bloom unseen. I know, the rose says, her petals dancing your kisses on my cheek. And I believe.

a rose spoke to me,
chanted of springs without you,
thorning my heart’s loss

.
the not so wee notes…
– I rarely pay attention to roses. They’ve never been my favorite flowers, but they were my little brother’s… and he has been on my mind a lot these last few days. He really liked spring weather, the color orange, and roses… So I’ve been smiling at the blossoms… and, perhaps, crying a bit.
– I was not thinking of “The Sick Rose”, by William Blake, when I wrote this poem. But “This flower isn’t sick” is so close to the line in Blake’s poem, that I felt the need to point it out.
– I hope my little brother’s soul is smelling the roses in the Summerlands (or wherever he likes).
– Linked to Open Link Night, over at the dVerse and to Sanaa’s Prompt Night (Take time out and stop to smell the Roses).

Orange Flower
(the weeping angel behind my little brother’s rose was painted by Shelle Kennedy)