To a Foetal Flower

One family holds the world in awe
of flights they fly to water fall
a puzzle for Icarus eternal 
on wings forever like a last rosary 
fallen down from a cross
our father in high flying feathers
in a vision dreamed us to the wax 
wing moon and back.
On the beads they're told 
each life distinguished
catechismic catch cries over nations stirred
by what lies extinguished.

Grim needles prick the conscience of these sacrifices
a family dynasty caste from beginnings
all ways back to the start
another calvary too many
each sacrifice becomes the mess
one, more than won
a familiar clan where all is one.

Ashes to ashes
water to water
from bloom to boom his family tree's doomed
dust to dust

Before the child's inception
sustains a dark belief
a rose defiled in passion
defines no stark relief
We drink no more 
this dynasty's wine
the grapes have withered,
died, on the vine

From the withering garden rose
a poet in a question pose
"Our founding forefathers
asked not
for ashes
in this month"

But why must tragedy rhyme with Kennedy?


(C) Copyright 1999
Terry Bowden
All Rights Reserved