Marigold, The Flower Of Death Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

Golden blooms, so bright and bold,
A story they have often told.
Marigolds, with sunny grace,
Help lost spirits find their place.

Their lovely smell, a guiding light,
To bring them back, day and night.
To see their loved ones, hear their call,
And share their favorite food for all.

'Flower of Dead, ' they softly say,
Reminding us, in a gentle way,
That life is sweet, but fades too fast,
A fragile beauty, meant to last.

In Mexico, a special time,
When souls return, in loving rhyme.
Aztec ways, with faith so deep,
Secrets of the dead they keep.

On November's first and second day,
Families gather, come what may.
To honor those who've gone before,
And open up the spirit door.

Not just about an ending stark,
But how life leaves its shining mark.
Their vibrant color, like the sun,
Connects life's thread, when life is done.

A bright reminder, strong and true,
That souls live on, for me and you.
Death is a change, a new abode,
On this bright, floral, spirit road.