Secrets of the Flowers

Secrets of the Flowers

They never speak, but they remember,

the bruised hands that plucked them clean,

the soil that whispered lullabies

while roots drowned in flower tears.

A daisy knows a burial,

its white face flecked with red.

A rose can keep a lover’s lie

long after love is dead.

Petals curl like lips in prayer,

but not for God or grace,

they mourn the ones who vanished here

without a name, a trace.

They drink the rot, they bloom in spite,

they bow when no one’s near.

The garden hums with quiet guilt

the kind you only hear.

So tread light when you pass them by,

these stems with poisoned grace.

The flowers keep their secrets still

and never show their face.

Rest in peace the flowers in your vases