Tuesday, September 13, 2016

De(e)p-ression De-funk




I haven't thought
of hollyhocks
in quite some time,

nor roses.

Stone flowers
gray my landscape—hard,

the way the light isn’t light anymore,
but an intrusion, an offense,
to the dark soil of my seedling,

nursing safe, until color is ready to form,
replacing stone,
crumbling statues,

bleak memorials of times past,
headstones of a previous life—

to reach, to grow,
to topple them,
with leaves and stem

and oh, the most glorious bloom.


© 2016 Jennifer Wagner


The Great Stone Church 
Photo © 2016 Jennifer Wagner