Still Life

Still Life
by Timothy Reed



This vase of flowers
sits on our table
reminding me of the
didactic still life
that every student of
color must regurgitate.

It’s a funny term, “still-life”
as though life could ever
be held still.
These days, I take
a different sense
from that bouquet
with sun-yellow faces
smelling of apology.

Life is not stopped - it is
still: persistent and unkillable.
Life is try after bloody try,
as we try to find the way.
Life is still loving,
still forgiving,
still being willing
to start again.

Perhaps that’s the value
of still life:
if you persevere,
the flowers of meaning
will unfold to greet you.