Blooming for the Silent
We bring the dead flowers,
Heavy with sorrow’s weight,
Petals trembling in cold hands,
Blooming just to fade away
Upon a place where no one lives.
Tears fall slow like winter rain,
Nourishing grief buried deep,
Roots tangled in forgotten earth,
Reaching out for a whispered breath.
The wind hums soft a mournful song,
Echoes of lives once bright and near,
Leaves shiver in the quiet dusk,
Shadows stretch across empty stones.
Yet beneath the shroud of night,
Beneath the soil’s cold embrace,
A pulse stirs faint and stubborn,
Fragile shoots break through the dark,
Sprouting hope from sorrow’s heart.
The sun’s gentle fingers touch the earth,
Warming the wounds beneath our feet,
Colors bloom where pain once dwelled,
Life’s soft breath begins to swell.
From mourning grows a quiet strength,
A whispered promise on the breeze:
Though bodies rest beneath the ground,
Love blooms eternal — bright and free.
So we bring the living flowers,
Not just for what has gone,
But for what still grows unseen,
In memory, and in our hearts’ dawn.
|