Funerals like rain
Fall from clouds
Young boys say ‘goodbye’
As father’s lowered to the ground
Mother stands alone
Tears become her shroud
Funeral goers utter not a sound.
She hears blue guitar strums
She’s pounding melancholy’s drums.
Texas and Tully are so far apart
Yet they share skies
Where hawks and heron fly
Storms and troubles rock both their shores
Warn their people to depart.
She tells her children
the legend of the Texas Blue Bonnet flower
A young girl gave up her warrior doll,
The last reminder of family,
To invoke a higher power.
She burnt her warrior doll
Its head dress of blue feathers
Offered up its ashes
To the North, South, East and West Winds
So hunger and loss it would tether.
She cried herself to sleep.
Let her memory weep.
When she awoke
Never before seen flowers,
Clambered the mountains
Birds made their bowers
People drank from hope’s fountains.
The mother with the shroud
Inside’s the little girl
Who’ll burn her own warrior doll
She knows what must be done
She’ll let her dreams unfurl.
She’ll wait till all sleep then
Pull out her favourite guitar
Take those blue cords
Burn them, banish them
Scatter their ashes,
North, South, East and West.
The dry season will begin
Floods have had their fun
A looking- to-the-future flower
will now begin to grow.
By June Perkins
Ripple Poetry 