She Who Sleeps Amongst Roses

A Poem by Jazz Newport Green

She who lay amongst the roses, lays quietly

As others cry out on her behalf

She takes no note of their pain

She does not stir at the sight of her children who weep

She who lays amongst roses,

Sleeps.

How her brother wishes to see her laugh.

He kneels on bended knee and in her ear whispers his desperate plea.

The little girl he once played with does not smile any longer at his jokes

She wont look him in the eye

She, in him, finds no joy.

Slowly reality pushes away hope.

How he sees his sister now does not matter.

What do the words "I love you Sis..."

Mean to her?

She does not even take notice,

For the words mean nothing to

She who sleeps amongst roses.

Her husband comes to try his magic,

Wishing to bring her back to him

But he knows it's a foolish whim.

The black veil he pushes away from her face

Reveal burning embers once a fire.

Her eyes glow no more.

The loose strands of heaven which clothed her vessel of thought,

Lay limp and lifeless,

As the body she once owned.

He holds gently in his hand.

Her hair so fine.

Her lips as soft as bundles of cotton,

As sweet as honey.

He throws away his pride and lays across her bosom

Weeping as he weakly pleads,

"My love- please, my love, come back home to me!"

His tears and words would pierce anyone's heart.

But her heart is unharmed.

Her stance not affected.

To the land of those who lay amongst roses she has defected.

He realizes he is disowned.

He is forced to walk away, not with his wife, just him alone.

He knew it to be true.

She who sleeps amongst roses has no desire to come home.

The loud sound of those who weep,

Matter not to her.

Let them continue to weep.

Let she who sleeps amongst roses,

Sleep.

Her children climb with her in her bed.

They cannot let her rest in peace.

"Mama, wake up! Please!", the young girl yells.

Her brother pulls her off.

"Mama-mama isn't feeling well." He says looking her in the eye.

But in his heart, he knows that to is a lie.

For she who sleeps amongst the roses,

Has no feeling at all.

There is an eventuality as respects the sons of those alive and an eventuality as respects the beast,

They have the same eventuality.

They have all come to be from the dust, and to the dust they are hurriedly returning.

Who is there knowing the whereabouts of the spirit of those whom quietly lay,

Whether it is ascending upward; and the spirit of the beast, whether it is descending downward to the earth?

Whether they shall wake at another time?

Whether they shall live in a better state?

As the one dies, so the other dies;

All are going to one place.

Her love and lust

Her hate and disgust -

All are gone with the wind.

Her soul has fled away,

Her life has met its end.

They lower her bed slowly into its final resting place,

One by one they throw more roses onto her bed.

But she cares not.

Let them throw their roses,

They decorate her bed.

She who lay amongst the roses,

Lay amongst those dead.

© 2013 Jazz Newport Green

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Reviews

poetdoug

"She who sleeps among the roses has no desire to come home." This is one of many of the phrases that make your poem such a compelling one. I commend you for selecting the topic of death that many find so difficult to think about, or even to write about. I think of the bible verse that says "Oh Death where is thy sting?" I believe the mother in the poem found the solace and rest that she so needed and for which she longed. "She who lay amongst the roses, lay amongst those dead." Thanks for this great piece of work.