the poem

so my supervisor encouraged us to write some poetry. that stresses me out. i don't know how to write poetry. i don't know the rules. she thought it might help us process and express our thoughts about a meaningful conversation. so, i tried it.

Perfectly Placed

They gather to be near her,
They offer their stories.

It’s chaotic.

I want to be near her too
I offer a loving touch.

It’s silent.

She asks what death looks and feels like
I have nothing to offer.

It’s scary.

She tells me the flower is wilting
I offer my ear.

It’s moving.

Two weeks pass, I hear of her dying
I offer my prayers.

She is blooming, perfectly placed
By her Maker in a bouquet.

It’s beautiful.