Flow in the Flowers

A poem in response to GiaB prompt #17 the soul

The storied flower, bygone and eternal, bequeathed for a moment of conscious presence.

Prude pleasure, in the first innocent — the flower — is the catalyst dreaming us into reality, and for one second, we, unwittingly, rejoin with omnipresent infinity

And our angels rejoice, reprieved with us in the bed of the sunflower all silken and blindingly bright honey, and not cloying but an equilibrium graced

Until, of course, our remembrance is dropped and disappeared beneath the bridge, Along with our petals, our seeds, and our stems.

Yet our flowers cyclically conceive, watered by loving longing and we are lengthened by a light of unceasing hope, brightening with green, our supernatural leaves.

And perhaps the flowers are the consideration in our contract with lustration.

Maybe the earth doesn’t resent our ripping of her blooms.

Maybe a purpose spurs our lust to uproot.

Injured and made whole again; drowned and resurrected.

Antiquated flowers flow from hand to hand and in that timeless pause, we anew with our immortality unfailingly understand: We will gift a flower on one, unending day and neither of us will look away.

~A poem written by Chloe Paulina Hawes

Oddly, and so very satisfying to my soul, I wrote this poem, Flower, the night before I read the latest prompt by Genius in a Bottle. The prompt invites writers to write on the soul. The soul is the very subject of this poem. I’m linking the prompt below. To anyone who reads this, please join!