Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2246945-A-Purple-Crocus
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Fyn
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2246945
Blooms can sprout anywhere! HS1
Old man of a house with shuttered eyes
of shattered glass. He sits, knees hunched,
leaning over a crumbling front stoop.

Leaning, as if the world on his shoulders,
is just a bit too heavy. Yet not enough, yet
to have him collapse in on himself.

Power long faded, overdue, overdone.
A flickering, faint, shows slim glimmer of life
within hollowed halls. Silence. The better to hide.

Cloud encribed moon gilds brave crocus:
even here a flower blooms. The haggard old man
feebly guards those shivering in sleep within.

Refined once, redefined down-- canted walls domino-ing.
Inhabited by wisps of humanity, the ghosts of society.
For myriad reasons the lost, the forgotten, the unnamed.

Derelict buildings, a roof over the derelict's head.
And yet, and yet, still the crocuses bloom: these are not
lost causes here. Even though some have run out of lives.

Thin fingers grasp at the last bits of frayed rope. Hope
still lives even if only on perhaps a meal a day.
Too stubborn to give in, they keep going on going on.

Stories live here. Hard ones, not for the weak of heart.
Gentle ones for even here, love thrives. Despite
addictions, hard luck, the bitter cold.

A storyteller, just one in a throng of souls--a flight of angels--
comes weekly, wings laden with sweaters, blankets,
sandwiches, boots, purses filled to overflowing with life-needs.

A caravan of vans, a caring, dispensing love, medical help, food.
The storyteller knows of what she sees. She's seen it before.
First hand. Knows what she does is needed. Appreciated.

She went to them, arms outstretched. Even those
who have next to nothing have yet a bit of pride. Called backbone.
These are those who know how to survive.

Some will get out, maybe for good, or for a while.
Rehab will take or maybe the next time. Home is
sometimes where familiar faces smile at you.

The sun shines brighter after a warm night's sleep
when one might notice the tiny purple crocus,
pushing its way between the crumbled concrete.

Magdalene's Mission is a nonprofit started by Kayla Sullivan

© Copyright 2021 Fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2246945-A-Purple-Crocus