The Bloom at the Edge of Shadows

Death wears a crown of spider lilies,
red flames trembling at the edge of silence.
They bloom where farewells gather,
where footsteps pause,
where voices fade into the unseen.

Their petals curl like whispers of endings,
a beauty that wounds,
a reminder that love and grief
are stitched with the same thread.
Each stem rises not toward life,
but toward departure—
marking the path where souls are carried
beyond the reach of hands.

I see myself in them—
fragile, fleeting,
yet fierce in their finality.
Not roses, not daisies,
but spider lilies:
flowers that do not beg to be adored,
only to be remembered.

Death is not an enemy here,
but a bloom—
a crimson guide,
a burning petal pointing the way home.

And when the lilies open,
I will not resist.
I will walk barefoot into their field,
my shadow dissolving,
my heart unfolding like a petal—
ready to rest
among the flowers of farewell.
by - Palak .......