They stand so quiet
Like cemetery stones.
All that's left now
Is the essence of their bones.
No longer do they sway
And brighten the garden
With their yellow petals
And green gracious stalks.
Like forgotten soldiers
On an empty battleground
They dream and yearn
For the spirit's peace.
In their humble sorrow
My own pain finds some ease.
Trudi Ralston.
March 9th, 2009.
I love revisiting this poem, because I learned that nature has no problem accepting loss, death, decay. I found beauty and dignity in the Spartan somber quality of some dead sunflower stalks in our garden. I was in the middle of coming to terms with terrible loss in my family, and the quiet, dusty, colorless, and dead presence of these flowers who once had enchanted me with their wild honey like scent, their bright golden petals and rich green stalks and lush leaves soothed my aching, exhausted heart and mind. I sensed no resistance, even on a pure organic level, to the inevitability of the passage of time and its resulting decay. That realization was liberating and very healing.
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