Poem: Iris

 Iris

Iris decorates the grave of one I 

Have loved deep in the canyon where rivers

Of grief have roughly flowed and memories

Of sorrow all these years still flow

Into the distant briny sea that waits

For us all. But now the cloying scent of

Iris comes to me in sickening waves

Reminiscent not of spring but winter

When so many celebrated and you,

My dear friend, determined to shoot yourself

Leaving us desolate in drifts of snow

Bereft of friendship and Iris’s deep scent

That came only in the canyon’s spring time

Rush of renewed agony in mem’ry

Of your last breath sprayed across the wall

Like a spray of flowers faded away

All too quickly into the river’s deep

Flood of sorrow that still flows these fifty

Years later as I lay Iris on you.

May 2025

About This Poem

I wrote this poem a couple of years ago after having visited the grave of a cousin who committed suicide when we were teens. It's not a pleasant memory and it still haunts me as does any suicide, including those of former students. I have no doubt that anyone of us has considered something to do with suicide, but if it's a problem for you or anyone you know, get help. The suicide hotline is 988. Call it. Those people who love you will be glad you did even if they never know (and you don't need to tell them). I think Iris symbolize suicide in many ways because Vincent Van Gogh, the famous Dutch artist, painted them all the time and he ended his life by suicide. I photograph them all the time, but my plans involve living a full life, even if it makes those around me miserable. ;)