A Poem for Dr. Blossom
by Richard Martin
A Poem for Dr. Blossom
In Memoriam Peter Kidd
There’s a time when the mind grows silent,
finds metaphysics in birds chirping in trees,
light dancing on leaves in a gentle breeze.
Years ago, you put me on your plant crew,
in your words, because I handled them
like they were alive as I unloaded lilacs
from your truck. That was a start.
I needed to dig into the earth, smell it,
get bit by black flies —
only the earth could heal my mind.
The flowers and bees, the blossoms
all around us had for centuries perfected
the best therapeutic techniques.
The mind had to get dirty, sweat /swear
to become visible to itself.
Cancer found your body four years ago.
Your fight to beat it was fierce
and full of grace.
Two times in the Texas heat,
we sat on your porch, considered
your prized roses. A damselfly
found the tip of one of your
fingers, resting briefly.
Life in the visible world is brief.
You spoke of two other worlds
you inhabited besides the visible one.
Everybody who loved you knew
you were a triple threat.
You said that your spirit was an acrobat
in the second world, a high-flying soul
that came to earth many times before.
Death did not intrude on the eternal
or the communion among souls.
We probably shared some poems;
I know you rolled a joint.
The sun packed its gear
as stars dropped into sight.
A chill called for a blanket on your knees.
Nothing could stop you.
You tugged at your beard and smiled.
The third world was neither visible
nor spiritual. It was not binary.
The polar tension between matter and spirit
did not apply. That gig was up.
This world contained all worlds,
all matter, all souls, entering
the body via breath, one inhalation
and one exhalation at a time.
You toked heavy on the joint;
I watched the smoke exhaled from your lungs,
curl into the air and vanish.
Something like that, you said.
It was time to retire — an 8-hour treatment
scheduled for tomorrow.
“There may be a fourth world,” you said,
opening the screen door. “But for now,
walk under the stars, my friend.”