A Gatekeeper’s Vigil
By Helen Leslie Sokolsky
I wander through carpets of heather and primrose
leaving behind a discordant arena
my salve is found locked in this garden
where a single flower can restore the soul
no strife present in this cloister of tranquility
as a soft breeze shakes marigold petals
forming a wreath of gold around my ankles.
Standing in a meadow of solitudes
one can absorb the peacefulness of earth
watch the landscape begin to soften
the flowers standing monastic in parallel rows
their stems posed as soothsayers, pensive, pondering.
I inhale the fragrance of this colorful mosaic
extend my palms to embrace their beauty
ready to move into a different space
gatekeeper to those forgotten fields
where clusters of white blossom into an Eden
a shepherd's purse.
From that purse pockets of solace will be gathered
and when there are enough
all the branches with an Easter promise
will be carried to the world outside.
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