Flowers

I came home to my lonely room

in the house we bought to last

till retirement or beyond.

Home to the office pressed into bedroom service

with the rollaway bed more suited to hosting

giggling girls in a sleepover frenzy.

Home to the pillow that received my tears

each night, as I fell asleep alone

in the enveloping dark.

Home to a beautiful bouquet of flowers

on the night stand beside

the bed of my humility.

Flowers? For me?

I came home to hope —

hope that love could return

hope that reconciliation was attainable

hope that forgiveness would heal deep wounds

hope that a lifetime of effort and struggle,

triumphs and mistakes, had built

a foundation that could last after all.

The beautiful flowers faded, and my heart,

the heart I had been holding together so desperately,

shattered.

Then…

I discovered something beautiful —

beautiful as any bouquet of flowers ever given.

My shattered heart now had room for love to flow freely through it.

Divine love now flows in through the cracks

and leaks back out again,

spilling over everyone I see.

I see you, with the hidden pain.

I see you, with the recurring depression.

I see you, with the mind-numbing fear.

I see you, with the seething anger.

Do you feel that?

That love, God’s love, spilling out all over you, from my

shattered heart?

This poem was inspired by flowers given to me for my birthday by my ex-wife (and current fast friend) while she and I were separated. As we moved on with our separate lives and I explored who I was beyond the role of husband, my awakening to my deep self was catalyzed and I finally realized who I am. For this I am eternally grateful. For my ex-wife, I am eternally grateful. For my wonderful girlfriend Lynn, I am eternally grateful. For you, all of you, I am eternally grateful.

Love you all,

Keith Wilson