Rose My Beautiful Child Poem by Thabani Khumalo

Rose my child,
why hold to the memories of grief?
Grief is an earthly fable that keeps their bodies feeling ill.

I should allow you to mourn out the moans
until they have truly diminished from your blames,
yet the soundest memories of love
are like a photo captured of the garden bloomed
for you the beauty to gaze upon and upon which to smile,
or recall the moments clear enough to cry the tears of joy.

In this night when you look to the sky on high,
I will give you a star to break up the darkness of forlorn.
Like flowers of a fertile garden,
man is right to plant himself like a seed and wait for the re emergence of spring.
There is also a light of wisdom in the uncommon occurence of death.

Even the rein has not been permitted
by nature to leave a nursing seedling to its own devices.
I know the depth of your sorrow for I remember my own
and other things I have not cherished in a thousand lives of mine,

I watch over you always.
This flower you will once again see in vivid colors
and like a passing season,
you will fully forget it once ever disappeared from your sight.
I answered this prayer even before you were born and I know that all is well...

I think I got a little carried away right there Rose -
I almost told you I am God.