Today's Read Write Poem NaPoWrMo challenge is "Smoke a Dubie"--write a poem using a selected lines from work by the poet Norman Dubie. I don't know of him, but after reading the selection of lines for the prompt, I intend to know him, swiftly and immediately and deeply. He's amazing. The line I selected from his work is, "His chapel fell into flowers long ago".
The Worry Flower
His chapel fell into flowers long ago.
Its offal knotted the seed
from which the Worry Flower grew.
Blind as water, still
it has its ways of knowing.
Go on--you can't scare it. Dribble
your most ferocious aches
into its silky pitcher.
It will swallow up the treacle, examine
each their naked rhythms and decays
and digest them in its bile.
There is a kind of god in there:
other people's worries for your worries
and the State of Things in General.
The chapel walls absorbed their furrows,
their lost goodwill and gratitude,
their vague desire
for the happiness of others,
novena wax, no little prayer.
It's strong-rooted, takes in
just the right amount of light.
You could even pluck one
for yourself and it would live.
survivor-types, these blooms.