From Words

To see lilacs

      and to think

            'When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd'

      and

            'April is the cruellest month'

      and only then to remember

            (from words that mean too much, O Lord, deliver us)

     a green glass vase with a fluted edge

        filled with heavy-headed lilacs drooping the scent of spring

     broken, cracked stems witnessing through the glass and water

        my grandmother's last confession of meagre sins

One by one we crept quietly into her room

     hoping not to disturb her.

     'Can I get you anything? A drink of water?'

     'Don't the flowers look nice? Mrs Amberdale picked them this morning.'

     'Try to sleep now. We'll let you rest. George will be here later.'

And crept quietly out to the sitting room

     hoping not to disturb her.

     'It won't be long now. Her suffering is almost ended.'

     'Didn't the flowers look nice? Mrs Amberdale picked them this morning.'

     'Did you put a copper in the vase? They say it makes them last much longer.'

To see lilacs

      and to think

            'When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd'

      and

            'April is the cruellest month'

      and only then to remember

            (from words that mean too little, O Lord, deliver us)