A Flower’s Beatitude
A poem dedicated to my wife
The colorful glee of a flower’s bloom, tragically dies,
If it does not touch joyful and receptive eyes.
For flowers yearn to not only survive but to grow in the human soul,
To avoid wilting into merely natural wholes.
What a mysterious paradox of a natural thing!
To die naturally yet to remain eternally living,
If it bears fruit in the eyes of one graceful human being-
Only then can it be said to be truly seen.
Happily you my love know how to gaze like this,
Nurture life from death with your eye’s caress,
Turning the simple beauty and fragrance of a fragile flower
Into incense and worship of God’s invisible power.
Blessed the flowers that desire to be seen by you!
For the day they are seen they will be planted anew
In the garden of your soul with glorious, shining hues,
And be forever soaked in grace’s refreshing,
Morning dew by a smile or two from you.
By Daniel Meola
