Poetry
"A Time for Flowers"
By Ellen Wright
By Ellen Wright
Why write now about the delicate nature of lilies,
their blush, their grace,
when men and women lose their lives in the streets,
and a police officer is so brazen as to murder
a black man in front of witnesses
holding cameras, pleading for the man's life?
This is the summer we channel the spirits
of the great civil-rights poets like Dudley Randall,
who wrote about the Birmingham church bombing of 1963
and the deaths of Addie Mae, Cynthia,
Carole and Carol Denise,
whose coffins, newspapers show, were draped
in black and white flowers.
This is also a time for flowers
like the dozens of red roses adorning the coffin
of George Floyd, or the blue lilies
and yellow mums that draped the coffin
of Ahmaud Arbery,
or the one with hints of lavender that draped the coffin
of Breonna Taylor, or the hundreds that draped the coffins
of dozens of others who died away from the public eye
after protests, during protests,
because they were thought to be protesting,
or while they were jogging,
or while they were behind closed doors
minding their own business.
Yes. This is a time to write about flowers,
the exuberant spray of white lilies
that silently say this life mattered.
their blush, their grace,
when men and women lose their lives in the streets,
and a police officer is so brazen as to murder
a black man in front of witnesses
holding cameras, pleading for the man's life?
This is the summer we channel the spirits
of the great civil-rights poets like Dudley Randall,
who wrote about the Birmingham church bombing of 1963
and the deaths of Addie Mae, Cynthia,
Carole and Carol Denise,
whose coffins, newspapers show, were draped
in black and white flowers.
This is also a time for flowers
like the dozens of red roses adorning the coffin
of George Floyd, or the blue lilies
and yellow mums that draped the coffin
of Ahmaud Arbery,
or the one with hints of lavender that draped the coffin
of Breonna Taylor, or the hundreds that draped the coffins
of dozens of others who died away from the public eye
after protests, during protests,
because they were thought to be protesting,
or while they were jogging,
or while they were behind closed doors
minding their own business.
Yes. This is a time to write about flowers,
the exuberant spray of white lilies
that silently say this life mattered.