You were ready to walk
through the Night with me
but you died on a Winter day
and left me Spring as a legacy.

Flowers and words in blue,
words and flowers from you:
now what is yours is mine
and what is mine is yours.

Mummy,
Love is not missing.
Thank you for
the Blessing.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

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all walls shall collapse
all roads lead home

hope is never wrong
hope is a Spring song

and Winter flowers sing
and make light of frost

our paths have crossed
we’ll never go astray

the sky is deep blue
our love is the way

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Men like to build stone temples
with heavy studded doors
that they close properly
when they pretend to worship.

Do they really love each other?
Walk your own way and go
where the gardener kneels
every day,

where the Tree grows slowly,
where the Flower chants humbly
and where the patient Star shines
for every Pilgrim:

God loves Gardens.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Les hommes aiment construire
des temples de pierre
avec de lourdes portes cloutées
qu’ils ferment au jour de la prière.

S’aiment-ils vraiment les uns les autres ?
Passe ton chemin et va,
là où le jardinier
chaque jour s’agenouille,

là où l’Arbre grandit lentement,
où la Fleur psalmodie humblement
et où l’Etoile patiente brille
pour chaque pèlerin :

Dieu aime les jardins.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Stained Glass Window (The Mysterious Garden)
(Odilon Redon, c1905)

This may sounds like
a last au revoir.

It is not a brilliant poem.
Not even a child’s song.

I just want to write
a few words about Love.

There is no guide
but the Heart.

There is no wandering
when kindness is the Light,

and for even the tiniest spark
will turn into a radiant sun,

there is no darkness,
there is no farewell.

© Frédéric Georges Martin