Tulip

My friend, Gill Henwood, sent me this photograph of what I think is called a parrot Tulip,
which is certainly very beautiful and unusual. It encouraged me to write this poem.

Tulip

I bear witness to beauty, joy and loveliness
in a world besmirched by ugliness, anger and hatred;
a world where words snarl, tear and destroy,
blackening the tongue and emptying the heart of light.

I shine with colour,
dazzling to overshadow dullness;
lives tarnished by pain, emptiness,
harshness of spirit.
I am painted with the palette of joy:
dazzling hues of bright reds, pure white,
swirling greens.

Care and fear are marked out in drab grey,
muddied rust,  blackened dust –
shades of brokenness, distress, disease.

Crying out for attention, the uncared for,
unloved and unserved lose hope,
vainly seeking a vision which eludes them.

But there is still life,
still hope,
still signs of better ways.

My petals dance and swirl in a gentle breeze,
blown from the God who painted me,
filled me with capricious creativity
and pure, pure love.

Open then souls meant for singing,
dancing, loving, serving,
sacrificing for others,
as air rushes in, filled with renewed light.

Breathe.

Be filled with amazement, purpose,
wonder, awesomeness,
love.
With… ah!  
God.

Mr.G. May 3rd 2021.
(with advice from P.N.)

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