When Sunflowers Refuse to Open

When Sunflowers refuse to open, you know something is askew. For those of us living in Northern California (Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Colorado...), this summer has been particularly challenging as fires erupt in the four directions. Nature has a way of speaking wisdom, and on this particularly day, it came in the form of Sunflowers. As friends text pictures of dark, foreboding skies from yet another fire 19 miles away, I decided instead, to write a poem. Please enjoy...and...as of today (four days later), skies have cleared and it was the first blue sky we had in weeks ~ the sunflowers began to open....Ahhhh, impermanence!

When Sunflowers Refuse to Open

August 15, 2021

©2021 Karla Johnston, InnerConstellation.com

 

Dixie and Tamarack Fires, 

still burning 

and the newest, just yesterday, Caldor.

Days pass in wane-attempt of salmon sun—

unfamiliar neon ball, sometimes seen, sometimes unseen,

impossible for sunflowers to find, track and follow,

buds stay closed, in stunted, suspended states,

waiting….

 

Impossible to find, track and follow,

I, too, curl-in with barely my bright parts out,

turn from faraway sun, 

stay indoors as advised,

squint through smoke

and failing light.

 

Yet, everyday, at least once, 

I leave the closed up house,

visit the garden,

refill bird feeder,

refresh shallow pond.

 

Smokey in-breaths, smokey out-breaths, 

ash falls like snow  

as I water sunflowers, and,

insights come—

every material thing is replaceable.

But what of safety? Clean water? Fresh air? 
Healthy body and stable mind? 

We’ve got to change how we’re doing things.

Heart opens as I contemplate, how?

 

In mind’s eye, another flower appears—Fireweed— 
It pops up like a prophet: tall, slender, bright fuchsia.

It lives in colonies, is hardy and thrives in areas of burn.
“I wish it were called Fire-blossom,” says a dear friend,

“We mistakenly call the elegant weeds.”  

 

Internal Fire-blossom, show us the way.

How you have learned to survive, 

so beautifully.