Lilies in the Pond

@KaremIBarratt

loto por karem 2

 

I sit still, in front of the water.

Lilies float, like aquatic fairies,

Ready to expand their wings and fly.

Except that they can’t. They couldn’t

Then, they cannot now.

They are tied to the mud

By an umbilical cord, which cut

Would let them float, free, for

A while, before they died.

They can only be beautiful in

This little pond.

They can look at the sky,

But never touch it.

They can feel the soft current,

But never flow with it.

They are locked, under key,

Like a sheep in a child’s picture.

And yet, they are.

They live and breathe and

Have their existence in a miniscule

Spec they know as paradise.

And they bloom, and turn

The lowly water hole

Into a Monet master class.

They frame the frog and its song

And inspire the novice watercolourist,

Seated awkwardly over a rock.

They care not what I think,

Or believe should be the

Measurement of their greatness.

They unfold like a poem in

A lover’s eye, as the words kiss

The ear of her paramour.

And in their indifferent beauty,

Beauty itself they become,

Goddesses of the waters,

Angels of hope for the desperate

Focused in the mud.

And I bow my head and let

Them bless me, with the

Sanctity of their sheer presence,

Their delicate strength,

Which takes the muck and the filth,

To transmute them into mother’s milk,

The humble, unsung nourishers

Of their radiant magnificence.

 

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