by Elizabeth Derby

There are white lilies
Sitting on my table
Serene in their beauty
Sickly in their scent,
A deep cloying sweetness,
Skeletal fingers
That scratch at my mind.
Reminds me of funerals
Of loss,
Of tears,
Of soul wrenching loneliness
For someone departed.
How can a thing of beauty,
Of nature,
Drag at my inner core?
How can a scent
Stir in my being
A longing
Of such deep intensity
That I don’t know
What to do?
I want to move those flowers
Out to open air,
To make them breathe
As they have taken
My breath away.
I want to tear them apart
As I have been torn.
I want to scream ….
But instead
I walk through the room
Gagging on the scent
Not willing to admit
That something so simple
As white lilies
Can throw me into darkness.