A World Where Everything Is An Altar of Some Sort
Kristen Lenea Ryberg
Article voiceover
A World Where Everything Is An Altar of Some Sort
I place cut stocks of dried cosmos, marigolds
on the table close to my Mother’s Memorial Garden.
Tomorrow I’ll rub them free
into envelopes for Spring.
They are not cut-and-come-agains
they are wind-strewn survivors.
Weightless wisdom on hold.
Liberation, two seasons away.
I can give them small assistance
a chance of re-birth
of their fuchsia, their gold
flaked pollen unborn.
I can help them.
I might see their return
in the Spring
I’ll press them into good soil
a chance to generationally re-color.
Beautiful Kristen! The poem, the photograph and the sentiment.
Cosmos are a lovely, swaying-in-the-breeze way to honor your mother and rebirth each year.
We all need help to keep going and persevere.
Thank you for this really beautiful poem, Kristen, and for your wise words about what poetry and other arts give us.