Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser
In the florescence of the garden iris,
I see your green eyes
when bright and when wearied
by days grown frail in their
failure to keep on making promises
You just rest now.
Let what has already bloomed be enough.
Someone will remark on it next spring,
and perhaps the one thereafter.
Love has a way of rising when tears
water the soft mossy earth.
I’ll plant memories for you with my own
body while answering the question,
“What is it the Soul wants to live into?”
Because I learned from you
what a life can be.
© 2012-2014/Jamie K. Reaser
For Wilhelmina 'Billie' Reaser (March 5, 1943 to April 4, 1995)
Published in Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life (www.hiraethpress.com)