Flowering
Grow a life here.
At the ruins of the Seven Churches Inishmore
Pick a crevice,
a homey gap
between stones
and make it
your own.
Grow a life here
from wind
rain
and the memories of ancients
embedded in limestone.
The bees will use you
for their sweet honey.
The rock will soften under
your touch.
You will draw moisture from fog
and hold it.
Your presence
will build soil.
This is all we have
in this life
all we own:
a flowering
an opening
a gap between stones
for tiny tender roots.
By Linda Buckmaster
Spring 2006 2.15.06
Spring 2006 2.15.06
I just got back from Ireland and Scotland, and I was on the Isle of Iona, and I saw so many ruins of churchs, cathedrals, with tiny flowers growing is the cracks and on the tops of walls. So this poem has special meaning for me. I have some petunias coming up in the middle of our asphalt driveway. We are just amazed that they keep growing and blooming. everyday they are there for us to enjoy. L. K. Wilson
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