The Smell of the Lily

The stream flew gently over, a deep-blue rock where chorals live,

The sun above glowed from a tower, the chorals, they were suns beneath.

The orange and the red of starfish, covered the grains of yellow sand,

A lone fish hid within a crevice, that steamed with algae’s salty scent.

A baby whale lay on the shore, washed by the tides onto the land,

I wondered how it lost its mother, whose hand of murder left him dead.

A lonely seagull caught a fish, the fish so silvery in skies of blue,

So strong and full of life it was,

It was a pleasure looking at its spurts.

So healthy, full, so muscular and true,

The fish was like a vision in the blue.

The white skies shone above its head,

The seagull knew it would be dead.

But did the fish?

You know it’s true, that she had not the faintest clue.

For why else would the fish be writhing,

Fighting for life, secure of winning?

We leave the scene, we leave the actors,

We turn onto the baby-seal,

And our heart clenches with pity,

For this wild beauty, for this kill.

He doesn’t have the hope to live.

And then – we stepped into the shallow water,

We looked down at the deep-blue rock,

Imagined all the life around it,

And smiled with happiness and thought.

And our thought was one:

Life’s beauty was so sweet,

So poignant with the smell,

That lilies caught when left to rot.

                                     

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