The yellow flower
Thrown into the flames
Its petals curl
Turn to glowing red
Its stem blackened
Charred and smoked
Into dust it fades
Then blows away
The yellow flower
Has been consumed
Destroyed and cast aside
Just like her dreams
Just like her life
It is somewhere in the wind
Far out of reach
Still kissing her cheeks
A tease it whirls around
She cannot touch it
But feels it brushing by
Making her life a blur
The yellow flower
Is gone away
Just like her happy days
She bears a sword
All day, all night
To keep her life, survive
The yellow flower
In her mother’s hands
As she is lowered into the earth
Into land of the dead
From the life she knew
She cannot follow her
The yellow flower
Blooms in spring,
To fall before the snow
Will not let her forget
What happened in that meadow
When her heart was in the pits
The yellow flower
Mocks her pain
It flourishes, multiplies
While she wanders alone
Down dark roads
Mourning all her days
Image Description: A monarch butterfly with orange wings outlined in black veins and highlights with white spots sits on a flower with an orange center and petals that shift from red to yellow.
This poem is a lyrical exploration of Thyrena grieving her mother in Rightful (my first novel). I originally wanted to place the poem in the book (inspired by Tolkien's many poetic expressions throughout the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings) however I could never get it to a place I was completely satisfied with. I'm still not completely settled with this poem, but part of life is that it is messy, and sometimes I feel brave enough to share something that doesn't feel perfectly polished.