the lily magnolias

the lily magnolias
are breaking
open –

lit like candles
on heavy-laden
branches, extending
their well-timed
lanterns into the

lit like boats
caught on a
breeze, tearing
on the hook
of childhood

lit like a search
party that will
return again

lit like the altar
for forty-nine days

lit like the thought of you
breaking, blossoming,
into the face
of these tugging


  1. marlowe44

    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.

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