F
L O W E R SFlower in the Crannied Wall
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower--but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
What flower would I be? That flower in Tennyson’s poem, so full of life and mystery, or the flower a young “hippie” put in the rifle barrel of a National Guard soldier, equally young, when Nixon called out the NG to save the nation at the Kent State demonstrations, in May, 1970. Or perhaps, the flower a young Chinese man offered a tank driver in Tiananmen Square, in 1989, when freedom briefly bloomed in Red China.
Maybe better to be the orchid in Dorothy Lamour’s hair, behind her ear, looking like a dream of a simpler time. Better not to be the poppy flower, the flower of death, blooming in junkies' eyes as their dreams shatter and fade away. Better to be the flower that wilts on the grave, than the one that digs it.
6 comments:
That's very nice, very poetic. I really like the last line.
"Better to be the flower that wilts on the grave, than the one that digs it."
Oh, I really liked that. Who said that? Did you make that up?
Yes I wrote the last line, it came to me as I was searching for an ending for the metaphor about the poppy, and on that note, I thought it a fitting point to close on.
Bruce, as i read, I imagined the images you spoke of...I actually got goosebumps!! Beautiful as always....Penny
I remember when the soldier put the flower in the rifle of the national guardsmen. My brother was in Viet Nam at the time. I always watched the news to see if I could find him there. The last line is beautiful.
BTW, my brother is in Texas now, and living a good life, with wife, sons, and grandchildren.
BRUCE YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL MIND....CMP
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