Alan Clark
“…writes with flowers, colors with songs”
Aztec
We serve, become the flower feast,
Prick ourselves and perish so,
And then again and then again.
A flimsy fortress thus is made
Of petals soft and colored high
In melon greens, let’s say, or red.
Who’s born for this is lost a while
In scent and sound – a voice proclaims,
Its strength not ours but free of that,
A dream’s affair that gives rewards
For how we rescue life and in
Its blooming so, walk the roads
To where the gods have said to go,
And like the flowers, fade away.
Though something lasts, or so the gods
Once said and so did we once say.
About the writer:
A.M. Clark is a poet and artist, the author of Guerrero and Heart’s Blood and Where They Know. His poems have appeared in The Caribbean Writer, Little Star Journal, About Place, DimeShow Review, East Coast Ink and others.
Image: Garden Couture by Kinga Ogieglo. Oil on paper. 32 x 48 cm. 2015. By free license.
