Journey to Your Deepest Self

The Last Flower

Duncan's Face

by Kathleen MacGregor

Because his body sat itself down

And I could almost hear…

Because he thought he was alone, unwatched, unknown,

Because I was home and could afford

To spend some time,

I opened my arms and heart to him,

To us.

And because I did,

He spilled his worries and his sorrows-

The purple bags beneath his blue eyes,

His trembling hands,

All the things he doesn’t know

That he needs to learn

To survive in the world,

Trees that get bulldozed,

Whales, dolphins, wolves

And children in wars,

The last flower.

Because space opened up all around us,

Time yawned and stood still

And invited the troubles to linger and be tasted,

And tell us what it’s like,

Because we sat together

In our willingness to feel,

In our desire to connect,

I got to hear him say, through crying eyes,

“When will they know they are killing themselves?”

“When will we know we are killing ourselves?”

Because it seemed much too big for a 9 year old,

I was shaking when I held him,

And together we loved

Not dimmed by grief

But brightened.