The Making of a Poem

Peony Petals: The Call Beyond Politics

Photo by Thea Harrison on Unsplash

Several years ago, I was trying, and mostly failing, to write a poem about a political event, which, while important in political terms, is not important here. I turned around and noticed that a few peony petals had fallen on the floor from the vase behind me on the counter. I marvelled at how beautiful, even perfect, they were. Then I continued working. I struggled with increasingly futility the next day and the day after. On the second day, I noticed that these same petals were still on the floor, as I had, in my focus and lack of attentiveness, forgotten to pick them up. Their character had changed completely, and seemed to suggest other lessons. Then a bit of magic: the idea or need to understand what called out to me about the petals overpowered my will to continue the political poem.. Within the hour, I had the poem below, and never finished the political one.

I return to the theme of the poetic and the politic, in an essay to follow in my next post.

The Peony Petals

The peony petals scattered there,

were freshly-fallen white and fair,

no longer than a day or two before

my glance again fell to the floor.

They were closed in, dark-stained now,

their call of light and grace and how

I had to learn from what was shown

had dropped a note and changed its tone.

How to, or so they seemed to say,

be fresh and light and live this day,

and when the time has come to die -

quick-now, into the bright blue sky.

This poem was published and republished by the League of Canadian Poets “Poetry Pause” program.