The Way the Flowers Look

The Way the Flowers Look - a poem.

When someone asks you how you feel

and you can no longer describe your emotions in your own words

take them to the floral shop, and describe the flowers.

Show them the daisy,

the way the petals are shriveled

and fall purposelessly onto the ground

only to be stepped on by customers

“For what was once in hand.”

Put their fingers on the rose,

to feel the dry edges of each red flower,

to prick their finger tips on the thorns

“For the small cut, that hurt like a large gouge.”

The lilies will be sagging off of their stems

and their innocent color turning dark

“For what once existed.”

They will ask about the tulip

and you will ignore it

because it is still alive

and reminding you of your sister

this one will need no explanation

as they will understand

You pick up a pot, in which the orchid wilts

and you hand it to them

and ask them to feel the air roots that have grown

that have broken off of each other

because someone has failed to keep them watered

“For the one who was another, and then lost both selves.”

Next to the orchid is a dahlia

that is still alive and thriving

the petals burst in radiant shades

of pink, and purple, and red

but are beginning to dry up at the ends

like the rose

“For the stories that became trilogies, and the trilogies that were forgotten.”

At the end of the aisle is the baby’s breath

and each bouquet is still blooming

so you will reach for it, and say, “For what is to come.”