Rebirth of His Iris

October 8, 2008
By Caryn Massey, Chandler, AZ

His life was unparalleled, one to be marveled and admired.
My grandma loved Irises, so beautiful and delicately inspired.
Joy, bliss, and love, made up his wonder years.
I rely on those memories, to dry up my tears.
His death was expected, this fact of life I knew.
Air is escaping him, so unfairly true.
Without fear he shuts his eyes, excepting fate.
Silence. . . . . .
Luminescent angels surround Big Daddy, greeting him with joyful faces.
Now he can breathe freely, into the sky and open spaces.
It hurt to keep fighting, but he lived fully with his heart.
Kissing me goodbye, knowing we’ll never be apart.
The Iris blooms every May, another chance to live.
It’s a rebirth of its former self that had nothing else to give.
Though he may be gone, but his love will remain.
And like the Iris he can die, and come alive yet again.


The author's comments:
This piece is about my grandfather who passed away two weeks ago. He loved the flower the Iris and planted some in his garden months before his death. The next day my family found an Iris in full bloom in his garden. I dedicate this poem to my grandfather and I hope anyone that had lost someone close to them gets some hope or relief from this peoem.

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