A Collection of Poems

No One Watered Sara's Plants

S.E.

You spoke of how you feared the fall,

That sharp short breath of shock

At an unfixable imbalance

And old bones turning a slight

Twist and trip into

A veritable plummet from paradise

No God, no nurse, or family hand

To help you up, not even to

Hear your cries, your choking

tears.

Well, all that went unsaid out loud,

Except for the shouting in your eyes,

Your voice's catch and pause,

I heard it.

And here you said, with a small smile

What comforted you just then.

Your plant, left at your desk, locked

Alone, has gone dry and drooping

Dying, in a slow and graceful fall.

A fall, it seemed, you swore to be

A kindly example and caress of comfort

A figure you could follow

And feel just that much less fear.

Like a ficus could fall better than you.

Professor, find comfort where you will,

But that plant probably pales

At the thought of falling as gracefully

as you.

That ballet I've only seen

A fraction of, with hints

Plastered on office walls and

Bookshelves, desktops (the analogue),

Photos, pictures, pieces and knick-knacks

Taken from some dance that

I, and most certainly our friendly ficus

Could scarcely imagine.

Family forged, minds molded

Words and words and words

Bound in books and souls,

Coded deep in brain matter

And laughs and smiles,

Spirited talks on and on

Your words never drooped

down,

dead.

You lived. They lived, live on

Really, though I can't know it

For sure, I'd swear

This plant follows you,

Lives and falls as it watches

You, not the other way around.

Who'd think a mirror, however leafy

Could offer this much comfort so well,

So far into old age?

You fall in a slow, sweeping way that fires

The heart into seeing not

A terror, but a piece of art

Well worth the awe and tears

Of saddened flustered joy it earns

Something beautiful in the fall

However you come to see it.