A Single Flower

The sun did not shine so brightly

The day that you died

As though a haze had covered my world

Smoke from a polluted fire

That will never cease to burn

* * *

The birds did not sing so loudly

The day that you died

As though in mourning

For something the whole world has lost

And will never be able to regain

* * *

Perfume did not smell as fragrant

The day that you died

As though the molecules themselves protested

What had transpired and refused to work

Until you returned

* * *

Sugar did not taste as sweet

The day that you died

As though everything that touched my tastebuds

Suddenly turned bitter

Or soured on my tongue

* * *

But one thing survived

The day that you died

A single flower, white and silken

Sprouting from a potted plant

As though to say that it will be all right

As though to say you’ve been reborn

* * *

Author’s Note: This poem, as many lately have been, is for my mother, who recently died. It’s about a flower that showed up in her favorite plant a few days after death.