Literary Impulse & Paper Poetry ‘Eudaimonia’ Prompt Submission
Tell Me the Dance of the Flowers
Model for me Eudaimonia
Viv dances ‘round the living room at the free-form Zoom dance class. Michael, the teacher, says, “Feel the sky, feel the earth.”¹
She will not think about being homeless in two weeks.
She arches up her arms, rocks back and forth on soles, feels the sky’s huge hug, the earth— worn moccasins skate on tiles, her breath half-full, feet replete with beat, creative play.
Behind the laptop, reincarnate chrysanthemums in a vase, one cluster of yellow, bunches of white ones, centers yellow, bursting,,, Viv gazes, transported, at their flourishing. She is drawn to a white blossom facing her.
They will die, Viv reflects, I’ll be in another home, staring at new blooms. Yet now, always, these flowers play petals on the organ of my heart. They welcome me with outstretched cups, on green tip-toes.
Gazing on her white chrysanthemum, it whispers, “I love you.” It vibrates — hope. Viv leans in.
Her bouquet is cousin to flowers at the house of friend Ruth, the only person visited since March, 2020, on walks in Charles Johnson Park. Ruth advised, “Flowers are important now. Put them in your bedroom, around your house.”
They’d bought vases pink and clear at the 99 cent store, weekly $3.99 bargain bouquets at Trader Joe’s.
The chrysanthemums on the kitchen table whisper to Viv as they shiver: “Life!”
She raises her arms, shakes head, neck, hips, watches arms glide ‘cross chest in her image on the laptop, sensing, in tune with her daisy, that she is love!
She is hope! She is enjoy-meant.
Oh, a ripple of lightning cracks open worry about the future dwelling, Viv has to move in 18 days.
Michael says, “Place a hand on your body, feel your heart-beat.”² Viv takes her pulse. “I remember you,” she jokes to herself.
Hope and fear tremble, assemble, kindle a braided candle. “Heal. Remember how you were created equal,” she hears, blowing oxygen on an inner candle.
Viv dances away from the Zoom screen — thinks she is not enough, not as good at finding a home as others are, yet
when did picking a home for oneself become high rent in a box in L.A.?
She feels for this self, who has sought home from the cord of a thousand years, who stepped at birth new into this dimension of entropy and favors it with flowers!
With kindness, she and the chrysanthemum jiggle at their ancient Source their One creation.
The music shifts to the grandfather voice of President Joe Biden, “We mark one year since everything stopped… As Hemingway said, ‘So many of you…strong in all the broken places.’ 527,726 US deaths… A collective suffering…” a time for compassion.³”
His words for those who’ve sacrificed, suffered, and died fill her heart. Viv opens the cupboard, gathers oatmeal, cereal, rice milk, tangerines, pink lady apple, a plastic container, spoon, fork.
She writes, “Have a good day, Help Yourself” on the plastic bag she carries for the homeless old man parked outside her house, though it’s scary. She lays the food by his car’s silver hubcap.
Finally, she has done something for someone during the Pandemic. Though it is tiny, she feels big, in bloom.
References
¹ Molin-Skelton (N.d.) Open Floor International. Retrieved from https://openfloor.org/teachers/michael-molin-skelton/
² Ibid.
³ Special Report, ABC News (2021). President Biden Commemorates Anniversary of Covid-19 Pandemic. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IDkDrTvxsLY
Thank you to “Literary Impulse” and “Paper Poetry” for the creative eudaimonia prompt which is explained below.
