Roses
I believe because I live on this planet and enjoy its many benefits, my gratitude comes from gifts of time volunteering. One of my volunteer activities is singing in the Resurrection Choir at St. Clement’s Church in Saratoga Springs, New York, at funerals. What a beautiful ministry hearing of the beautiful lives of life-long believers who gave so much to their families, friends, church and communities. Hardly a funeral ends before my eyes fill with tears, sometimes holding back sobs at the wonderful sharing of family and friends that lets me know of the life that just ended.
One of my very special Irish friends lost six people in six months. I lost three and several special friends are actively battling cancer. Put those two things together with another volunteer activity at fabulous folk music Caffe Lena venue, the oldest continually operating coffee house in America, right on Phila Street in Saratoga Springs. You probably know if you listen to Irish music, their war songs are happy and their love songs are sad. After a long infusion of Irish music and thinking about how many people I have crossed out of my Birthday Book, I wrote this poem.
O roses
O beauty
O scent
Seeing rose bushes
I recall red roses
held by loved ones
looking at their beauty
breathing in their scent
as they wait their turn
to cast down roses
one by one
o’er the dust of graves
sprinkled with tears
Seems an army
laid to rest
covered with tears and roses
o’er this long life
When my day comes
and you think of roses
buy yourself
a yellow bouquet
and cast the petals
on water
making wonderful wishes
and know
I rest in the house
of our beloved Lord
Copyright 2011 Barbara Garro
All rights reserved
No copying in any manner without requesting permission of poet, Barbara Garro
