RUSSIAN FLOWER

RUSSIAN FLOWER

Ricardo Antonio Garcia

The obscurity

of the Russian flower wilted

and beneath its once timbering vine

its winded seed

transplanted far away from its home.

How lands and places displace

and we all

become weary of our new lands.

The radiance

of his pedals were once promising

almost divine in its character

but the torments

of self fulfilling prophesies

diluted and absconded his cares

now less of a flower he’d be

and more of a cold winter

as the Russian front of War

would criticize.

Once a flower of wealth

the rain would beckon

and all the lands were green

surrounding his

majestic trunk and eternal reach

God Himself

had mercy on his fragility.

Knowing

that a disease was plaguing the land

he did nothing

to stop its encroachment

and so ascended

to become complacent and lost

as sometimes families would be.

The origin of his destiny

began with the greatest flower

the land had ever seen

and that 'flora' was his 'Mother'.

Legend has it

that she was dying from dementia

and he didn’t even visit her lair

didn’t ever show that he really cared.

If island fireflies

knew of his expectant retrieve

the Russian in him

would have been forever deceased

and never Created:

so today, she lay dying without him.

Why balance our species

and the temperateness

of its existence is beyond me

but no matter, it’s true.

Now surrounding

the death of my Cousins eyes

are the whispering

and unanswered things.

Age will destroy

all the beauty around us.

Only the beauty

that withstood the ravages of time

will continue

the arm of love about.

We are lost in our ability to loose time

at the sake

and at the mercy of whom we should love.

Your ‘Mother’ is not dead yet …