Strange Then

STRANGE THEN

MY BOOK,
RESTS UPON THE BUTTERCUP AND DAISIES,
AS THE EASTER BELLS,
BELL OUT INCESSANTLY,
SPOILING,
A LOVELY WARM SPRING DAY,
CALLING ALL THE DELUDED,
TO WORSHIP,
I PRESUME,
WITHOUT QUESTIONING,
THE SCIENCE,
OF THE SUN AND MOON,
IN WHOSE FORMATION,
CREATION,
IS ACCREDITED.

TO THE UNPROVEN BELIEF,
BENEATH,
LIES MY ACCEPTANCE.
STRANGE THEN,
AS THE TOLLING FINALLY STOPS,
THE WIND DROPS,
THE SUN HIDES,
AND THE LOVELY DAY,
BECOMES WARMER.

by Barry Conway

Comments (1)

Our Emily is philosophizing again and doing so beautifully and metaphysically again. The poem is only 8 small lines long, yet there is so much passing through it.This time about a daisy's death. Of course it is not the daisy's death we want to see- we don't want to think we are a daisy in a field of dying daisies. But we must accept it because it is an inescapable part of our natures. I don't think she's talking about a real lady's slipper flower? I think she's talking about every human being. We're all only a field of flowers away from death. She asks Are ye then with God? - are we right with God? Is there a Heaven? She wants to know as we all - is there an afterlife when we have crossed over?