IN
MAY, WHEN THE LILACS
DAZED
THE RAIN
My father was born
in May, when the lilacs
dazed the rain;
somewhere rather plain...
Ithaca, New York
I'm told;
(Maybe
so).
His twin
Followed closely,
And was hence
Named Thomas;
Invoking "two"...
a moniker of calm,
And so they were:
Sweet Richard and Tom.
Their mother dreamed of love (always),
And golden goblets full of promise;
She gave them middle
names
that reminded her of splendid kings:
Spurning the everyday ennui,
Kings George and Henry.
A window parallel her bed
While she labored
Ushered in moonbeams
And
docile stardust...
And
she peered closely at them,
Hoping
for the secrets that would
Guarantee
safety and success
On
that first day of May...
Sparing
future duress.
The
frailty of life's beauty
Sailed
like a fractured feather,
Wafting
in and out of that
Birthing
room...
It
was 1929, the beginning of May.
Two
tiny lives emerged that day;
They whispered secrets to each other:
Birthdays to come, summers to cherish,
Families to one day love like their mother.
My father was born
at a time when the lilacs
kissed the rain;
Right before the summer came.
His loss (has
since) rendered anguished
Grief and pain; and as I
Gather lilac stems
Into my crystal vase,
I perceive His face,
Framed by fragrant blossoms
And lavender-colored blessings.
(Yet
know, as well, it will never be the same).
Poem written by L.P. Grenn
c. 2019
