The wind ruffles a blue windsock,
slowly—it gathers the courage
to kill. I do not know
the nameless man, loved by God,
whose wife will die in the storm.
Where is the mercy? The stars
do not console the wounded,
nor the sandman the young.
The hills?
The rocks?
Why, even the storm invites our trust.
Are we a people
apart from the fury?
Today I walked around a patch of violets,
planted together in the yard,
tranquil, beside the rocky path
where their purple belongs. Perhaps
the flowers felt the peace.
I do not know.
Perhaps there was one, off to the side,
that I did not see.
first published in Domicile
4 comments
Comments feed for this article
September 20, 2008 at 11:27 am
Mike Devx
Helen, that was beautiful! Is this an original of yours? (I assume it is, since you didn’t attribute it to another.) Very evocative and thought provoking.
Poetry shouldn’t be explained, but I was hoping you might in this case, forgive me for asking: If there is a violet off to the side (that you did not see), what is its nature? (What does it represent to you?)
I took away the impression that the violets by the path were in calm, after the storm, and secure, while the lone violet away was in trouble and still threatened.
September 20, 2008 at 11:37 am
helenl
Yes Mike, the poem is mine. First published in 2001, it’s my most published poem and one of my favorites.
I definitely meant to show a contrast between people’s “fury” and nature’s calm, but other than that I have no idea what I mean. The mystery is mystery in this poem, even to the poet.
Perhaps, the “one off to the side, that I did not see” indicates the hope that’s always near, waiting to be recognized and embraced. Or maybe, it was in danger of being stepped on, trampled by uncaring “fury”. Not sure. Life – like poems – isn’t all black and white. Sometimes it makes you wonder.
September 21, 2008 at 7:27 am
renaissanceguy
Helen, thank you for posting this beautiful poem.
That lone violet made me think simply of the unpredictable and unexpected.
My very favorite part is “where their purple belongs.” I am very taken with the color purple in nature, as it is so rare. As Alice Walker’s character Shug says, “I think it p—es God off if you walk by the color purple in a field and don’t notice it.”
September 21, 2008 at 10:56 am
helenl
Thanks RG. Glad you enjoyed the poem. There is pace in the midst of turmoil.