A Peaceful Transition

She left flowers hanging upside down in the

Window sill to dry, but also, maybe to serve as a stark

Reminder to all the other house plants, this could be

Your fate too.

She never made it into potpourri, or any sort

Of crafts with the flower pedals, they eventually just

Found their way into the rubbish bin. The act of

Drying and dying them seems futile; pointless.

She just let them stay in a sort of floral purgatory per se.

But Alas, there is beauty in death. A passage of time,

A passage to another time; next time, transmissions

To the next unknown.

Fearing it could go one of two ways: Become a waste

Of time, or an inability to be accepting of what happens

Next, she was toiling with the idea that everything will

Become tolerable soon.

To the woman, it was a practice of moving on. She had been

Waitlisted for a new liver. The rest of her was becoming sadly,

Slower and inevitable. The more she took to drying flowers,

Watching death happen, her statis was calming.

Her days still ahead on this timeline’s plane, were salvaged.

At least salvageable. Months later, her kids were cutting strings of

Oddly beautiful bouquets from the hutch over her kitchen sink.

They believed she had lost her Raison d’Etra

Before her passing, but truly, instead, she had discovered

What beautiful was. A peaceful transition.