Individual Voices / Natural Forms
Winter, 2006
Louise Nayer
For My Parents Who Forgot to Weep
I would like to carry you
to a fallow meadow
near an emerald city,
near a pasture of pearls.
You will lie down
in sunlight
and I will anoint you
with a golden wand.
There, you will no longer
speak. There you will
weep for five years
until all the land ripens.
After that time
you will awaken
among daffodils,
among roses and tiger lilies
among chrysanthemums.
Your children and grandchildren
run in circles of light
around your bodies.
You are dressed
in silken robes
and when you speak,
each word is a blossom.