Flower Stems If heaven were a place to walk without fear before an audience jaded in judgement, a place to love without concern about running alone on earth’s curve, a place to rise in the morning without tripping on stones by evening, a place to play in dangerous rivers without swallowing water, a place to carry wood to a fire that never burns out, a place to throw out regrets with the dust swirls of empty rooms A place where traffic lights are all green, the sun sets peacefully after dinner, and sleeves are never too short. Then resilience would wither, muscles atrophy, bones relinquish their density without resistance to strengthen them in a field where flowers fill every space and their stems, though succulent, are the sturdiest pillars. Night Siren The too near wail of an ambulance assaults the quiet core of night, its rising then falling crescendo repeating repeating unsettling all that’s settled as it announces an unidentified human incident rife with pain or loss or both. Yet this ambulance, defying disruption and speed limits, delivers with singular purpose a medical team eager to serve, to make whole, to mend the punctures of sharp protrusions or the malfunction of a dusty heart and to begin a restitution that even in darkness has…
The Resilience of Life – Captivating Poetry by Marianne Brems
