The resurrection of a Dead Poet

The poet had died before her birth. She had been stagnant in an emotional abyss, in the realm of lost souls - pools of unspent tears and coddled fears. It was as if all that the poet had was fear, and she had let that fear drown her.

The poet was born of discovered torment, lying dormant in winters frozen hush. The spring thaw birthed boundless joy and unfolded immeasurable pleasure and pain. Oh, the pain that a poet relishes onto herself. She can feel the thunder of the sky before the rumble even reaches the earth.

The first thing to pain the resurrected poet was the stark realization that no one had come to her funeral. She looks at her empty grave site and laments over the view; there are no flowers next to the tombstone, no carefully thought out prose. No name.

Then there, by the upturned grave site, sits a child in quiet contemplation. She is still, her long dark curls shining in the sun. Her eyes narrowed with questions. She wonders if the poet will be gone forever. She wonders of death and life and lightness and darkness. And choices. And why there's no laughter anymore.

Her gentle, small fingers trace the edge of a dainty, lone daisy swaying in the soft breeze. She remembers the joy of springtime and the hope of life and the wonder of loving. The delicate petal gave her something as it broke free from its form.

Itself.

A smile made its home on her soft lips. The sparkle in her eyes became the essence of the sun itself as she peered and wondered at the beauty of life and the reason of death. "Now is not the poets time, but soon - very soon, she will shine."

She placed the daisy petal in her pocket to remind her of giving and taking and living and loving, of death and resurrection. For she would grow, yes indeed she would grow and become the poet that never dies, the poet that gives her daisy petals so that others will remember. That she would remind them all of the joy in achieving life, and that the meaning of life is to live it.

Learn more about this author, Octavia.
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