…to marble cheek

Oh bring me not the sighing lilies
their sweet cloying perfume of death
their pale, quiet faces open mouthed in grief
give them not to me for company
their cold alabaster touch, their waxy countenances
bringing a sad beauty, a mournful picture
their ghostly visages, woven into the landscape of despair
at home on the threshold, between here and beyond
symbols of loneliness, trumpets of pain
oh bring me not the sighing lilies
I will have no need of their grim condolences
for while they multiply slowly, seeking to embroider
all of the earth about my resting place
a profusion of satin creams and verdant greens
I will not be there, I will not be cheek to marble cheek with them
weeping for things lost, things undone
for I will be far beyond the cool damp earth in which I lie
far beyond the emptiness of remembrances
so bring me not the sighing lilies
instead the hearts of roses offer
their warm blushing depths, their sensual fragrant breath
their velvet petals so soft, a place to rest my head
their thorny arms to protect me
to stand between me and undesired company
their strength and beauty
standing sentry to mark the place and guard my resting soul
oh to walk again through the heady blissful ancient scent
of their profuse and varied blossoms
oh bring me not the sighing lilies
instead the gift of roses bring
for my soul’s delight
© Ann Bagnall