Bearing Witness to the Times: The Why of Daffodils

Photo by Lars Kasper

The Why of Daffodils

This week

The daffodils began to bloom,

The first few opening up

Across the lawn.

In some way

I know why –

I planted the bulbs myself

A few years ago.

They will continue to rise and bloom with the season

Long after I have left this place.

Whoever comes to live here after I'm gone,

Whether they live in strife or bliss,

Will witness the bright yellow flowers

That show themselves each spring

Like the crimson poppies in Flanders fields

Where soldiers fell,

Or the lilacs of lavender that bloom in the dooryard

In spite of grief over a slain hero.

It is that tenacious and enduring "why"

To which I confess no knowledge,

And claim no understanding.

Why are we comforted

By such recurrent beauty

In the presence of our sorrows?

Does nature’s hand

Speak soft reminders

In the wake of every tragedy

To bind us to some grander purpose?

When politicians speak madness

And armies pound cities to rubble

Will springtime daffodils

Call hearts to the essence

Of a life lived in beauty?

Do I really know why there are daffodils in my yard

Even when hate divides a nation?

Can we join with lilacs and poppies

To hold that poignant hope

Found even in war-torn communities?

   

Can those wounded in body and spirit

Open their eyes to see

The natural rhythm of spring

When blossoms break forth?

In as much as they turn our minds

To the underlying wholeness of being

The daffodils evoke

Thankful hearts

Even when reason

Evades the mind.

Perhaps this is the why of daffodils –

That in the midst

Of our inflicting pain upon one another

And our bringing desolation upon the land,

The earth is ever nudging us

Toward an unspeakable gratitude.

                                              ~ Charles Kinnaird

CNN Photo

"Airstrike at Syrian refugee camp kills at least 28"

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From my introductory post:

The best thing that poets can do is to bear witness to the times – articulate what is happening in the moment; speak to the real life experiences of your people.  I am setting myself a goal to write a poem each week that reflects what I see and experience in the life of our nation... if I can write one poem a week there will be some chronicle of our sacred/tested/doubtful union.

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