In Europe which has suffered much
From the dark side of who we are
They understand the importance of flowers
Their appropriate presentation.
I am not talking about the political flowers
That come in bundels
That Kings and Princes and Presidents receive.
At Sanssouci a single red rose was observed
Upon the smooth cement of Great Frederick’s vault -
Perhaps it means nothing -
But I fear it is the thing I trust,
Certainly more than numbers.
A small group of veterans
The children presented us with red carnations
I was deeply touched at my first mass
Since burying my father
So much was perfect
I could not help but wonder
Despite the medieval structure
If God had planned a home coming
Complete with flowers never previously received.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem