#flowereyes

Flower Eyes Snapchat Lens & Filter

There was a man. He was dead. And as we laid him on the ground, I held up my hand and quietly whispered, “Hold on please, for just one minute?” The other man nodded, and I ran. I ran past the silo. I ran past the garden and the clothes line. I jumped over the broken pavement path. I ran to the front of the house where a myriad of my grandmother’s flowers grew. 

I picked two daisies. They were a little larger than medallions; their petals were white and untainted, and their centers a golden yellow. 

I ran back and I placed them over the man’s eyes. 

I put flowers on his eyes. Because I thought it would be nice. And because now I know that I needed to. Because he needed them. Because I stood innocent before a graphic travesty and he, in the bowels of his heart, must have had even the smallest pinprick left incorrupt and it would be a shame not to honor that for the both of us. And as I stared at him lying on the earth, I now know that He was in the flowers. Not he who was dead. Not he who took him away. But He who carried my soul back into the barn where I could breathe. He who, even though I was always alone, kept me company.

He who is always in the flowers. 

He remains unwaveringly seen in the flora. He’s present in the burial. He is alongside me in the growing. He awaits the breaking of the earth. And He showers me as I emerge.