the lily magnolias
the lily magnolias
are breaking
open –
lit like candles
on heavy-laden
branches, extending
their well-timed
lanterns into the
darkness
lit like boats
caught on a
breeze, tearing
on the hook
of childhood
memories
lit like a search
party that will
return again
empty-handed
lit like the altar
for forty-nine days
lit like the thought of you
breaking, blossoming,
opening
into the face
of these tugging
magnolias
.
20100405:2239
y
y 
This one takes me to a Zen place,/lit like boats/caught on the/breeze, and I see those hundreds of paper boats with lit candles floating on a river or pond as part of ceremony, like that fabulous scene at the close of LORD JIM, when the village mourns his death. (the Richard Brooks film, not the novel). And a punch to the heart with /lit like a search/party that will/return again/empty handed/ that no matter where we search, how hard, how long, how thorough, our loved one has made their transition, and now can only be visited with in our dream state. And the sweet capper, the positive ending wherein you still can see the face of that person, in the new life of blossoms, that in that sense, memory has morphed back into life, hopscotching from thing to thing, place to place, a face on the wings of a butterfly.
that’s exactly it! thank you, again, for your thoughtfulness.