These Seeds Of Light

 

On a Sunday night, many many years ago

we went a long way 

to a flower-reading meeting.

You were working in the garden,

so chose to bring a dandelion,

clock-full of seeds.

 

After driving and arriving in the city,

you took a crumpled folded sparsely seeded

fragile specimen from your Levi jacket pocket.

 

I cheerfully suggested

you pluck a fresh flower from the street garden,

but you were content to keep yours.

 

When it was wrapped anonymously,

and later, a spiritual lady held it in her hand,

I quietly said,

Shall I write your message verbatim,

but, you said No.

 

You sat quietly in the hall

and listened to many readings,

but, you said nothing.

On our drive home through the hills, I said,

Did you understand your stem message.

The answer came in one word

when, you said Yes.

 

I recall, it was all delivered calmly

in metaphorical language,

presenting some words around possibilities,

perhaps, past challenges in your life

and also I thought, some coming promise.

But it seems you may be climbing ladders, 

reaching out, to uplift others passing by.

 

The truth is, 9 days later,

while walking along,

with your arms full of library textbooks,

you died suddenly, on a city footpath.

 

I lost you.

And I lost my wellness and some life force.

But in deepest grief, I was always lifted higher.

 

Time passes.

I grow abundant yellow dandelions.

Colorful Rosella parrots eat the flowers.

I eat the bitter and tender salad leaves.

Yet still, a Spirit Breeze 

spreads these Seeds of Light.