A year ago in autumn
you came home
with a cyclamen
with hot pink flowers
and gave it to me
as a gift. It lived
on the windowsill in
our bedroom next to
the cream jug with the
blue handle.
All autumn and all winter
the hot pink flowers
kept untwirling
and all autumn and all winter
I couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe
this could exist
in the darkness.
As spring came and turned warm
the flowers and leaves died down
until it was nothing but
brown earth in a small pot.
I took it outside
put it in the cold frame
and hoped it would
stay alive.
It did.
And now it’s autumn again
and I brought it in
and put it back
on the windowsill in
our bedroom next to
the cream jug
with the blue handle
and the hot pink flowers
are untwirling
and it reminds me
that even when the whole world
is turning dark
and the weight of human horror
is heavy in the heart
somewhere
a shocking spark of light
is rising –
bold, daring,
proclaiming truth and beauty
in the gloom.
.
Greetings! I’m Leah – a writer and poet living in the rural English Lake District. Here you’ll find an oasis of calm, comfort and peace; a sanctuary of healing, hope and beauty. If you’re the highly sensitive-deep thinking-creative type with a love of nature and a longing for the simplicity and quiet of times gone by, I think you’ll feel right at home. Subscribe to my newsletter by entering your name and email below.
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