Not just a flower

By Karla Doell

Recall for me a moment—

A daughter’s fifth Christmas:

Marked by the pink ribbon,

hugging tight the halcyon lights

suspended on the auburn mantel.

Marriage to the one and only:

Signified by bands of gold,

Circles of perpetual unity,

Universally recognizable love.

Snowed in with the family:

Evidence in an explosion of shimmering doves,

The only image on the single photo attempted,

From ‘let go!’ to getting to know, in choked closeness.

A close one’s depart:

Embodied in the melody of her favourite song,

its recording dances through the empty halls,

invoking profound joy and sorrow.

The battle for an idea:

Indicated by words etched on paper,

Standing firm for what they believed,

To stretch lasting into the grey future.

A speech once given:

Now indicated in quotes,

Spread down through the generations

In songs, books, education and Internet.

Freedom fought for and claimed:

Remembered by the red poppy

which makes its home on the graves

of those who sacrificed everything,

amplifying the blood spilt to acquire it.

What is a symbol good for

If the memory is not important,

If a symbol invokes no response,

If it transforms us less than dust on Jupiter?

Then is it anything more than a sham?

A fragment of coloured cloth.

Aurum forged to accessorize a finger.

A blurry photo that never turned out.

A song repeated to redundancy.

An old document to be shelved away.

Words spoken to preoccupied ears of indifference.

A red velvet cut-out pinned to your suit:

the result of conformity, obedience or habit.

It is not the symbol

But what the symbol represents.

So if we remember

Not just as facts, pictures or stories,

Out of conformity, obedience or habit,

But by the deep transforming why,

If on your heart you pin, not just a flower,

But penetrate your heart of the selfless sacrifice,

It makes all the difference.