Begonia

Strolling by the blooms,

(I’ve seen them dozens of times),

My friend and I take it all in.

“Look at those flowers,”

she points and grins,

“They really love to live.”

Flat opposite of what I think of them,

to me, they seem fragile and frail.

They’re practically translucent,

their blooms always die!

So I place her comment on a shelf.

But my brain keeps chewing it, do I love to live?

Now it feels like a goal to resume.

Love to live!

Love to live!

Should I be doing that too?

I think of the women I’ve known,

whose mantra this fits,

My grandma, all the way to 99.

Or my friend with cancer,

who lives as if nothing,

can keep her from the nectar of life.

They love to live, they love to live,

damn you flowers, I scoff.

But leave it to them to show me how to be,

Stupid, beautiful, happy begonias

in a bullying, innocent pot.