Held
Kneeling
She organized flowers
By the grave side
Arranging, rearranging
Realizing
Some things cannot be fixed…
They can only be held.
Every Morning
Every morning
the world
is created
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped ashes
of the night
turn into leaves again
(The first few lines from “Morning Poem” by Mary Oliver)
And we have a choice to be recreated every single morning.
I Miss Quincy
Time
Time
By: Quincy Foster (age 14 or 15)
Time is an unpredictable thing.
Sometimes it throws stuff we're not ready for.
But life goes on, as does time.
The suffering and scars we will forever bore.
The future is not always how we want it.
It changes by the choices we make.
Our fate is not forever set in stone.
It varies depending on the risks we take.
Each second the clock ticks can hurt.
Time is slicing through our veins.
But the clock will always keep ticking,
Even when it’s causing us pain.
Events will just keep passing.
And people will disappear.
Remember to make the right choices.
Time shouldn't be something we fear.
Off to College/Off to Eternity
By the Flowers of Spring
By the Flowers of Spring
(My gift to Quincy on her 21st Birthday. Her first spent in heaven)
Behold the hours,
In summer’s sun,
Ephemeral flowers,
There stained with love.
The light descends,
Late afternoon,
The autumn’s hint,
Impending ruin.
Oh winter’s ruse,
A hammering blow,
The fatal bruise,
Has laid us low.
And dark goes the song. The flowers are crushed.
And dark goes the song. The flowers are crushed.
And dark goes the song. Our love’s been lost.
Sigh…
But, wait. Listen...
A thawing crack.
Snowmelt glistens,
The sunlight’s back.
And can it be?
Yes! Sprouting sprouts!
And shooting greens,
Release the SHOUT!
(Ha!)
Winter’s anthem,
Has lost its sting
Finally vanquished,
By the Flowers of Spring.
And bright goes the song. The flowers are raised.
And bright goes the song. The flowers are raised.
And bright goes the song. Our love’s been saved!
