It's Still Life

For Sarah

It was yesterday. I was in the garden looking at the roses, three-deep at the curve of the border, pink blossoms big as dinner plates, and the wind flowing in and out and whirling about, the clouds scraping blue off the sky, and I watched the roses fall into bruised quiethood, dropping their spoon-ish petals of yellow and pink and white and scarlet. It was yesterday when I was struck by a word that pulled taut my heart, a word that swung from heaven like a bell, its motion slicing off the petals of my roses, and there was a part of me that was beyond silence, when she said, “palliative”. It is a stone dropped in a pond, tucked into silence, its ripple setting off to find space, and I wish my friend Sarah a very easy journey.

Write stones into bread
Sounds of a bell in a bell
The shadows she leaves

Including a deconstructed line from Sarah’s poem “Find me a space here, tucked into the silence.”  from ‘No mail – no post’. For Sarah Connor and dVerse Poets 

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