|The Collected Poems of Steve McRoberts
Moldering peacefully underground
I have spent my days and hours
listening to the occasional sound
of women planting plastic flowers.
And often have I dreamed and thought
of the sky and clouds above my head
and how such beauty should be sought
before one lies here, cold and dead.
I wasted life in worried gloom:
daily my heart would shrivel and harden,
until the day you knelt on my tomb
and planted your flower garden!
I felt your patient fingers
working deep into the soil.
The smell of your sweat still lingers
as the sun shines on your selfless toil.
And once, I thrust a desperate arm
up through the dirt and rocks and roots:
To touch a petal, alive and warm--
I touched your love’s own precious fruits!
And now to women who come to mourn
amongst the bodies scattered here,
I say, ‘weep rather for those unborn
who’ll hide their lives in constant fear.’
‘For I have looked upon the light
of someone kind and true.’
Come brightest day or darkest night,
this is what I’ll say of you.