Daughter

 

When I die, throw my ashes into those late
Lavender Ironweeds, the sun-craving black-eyed Susans,
The Crimson Clover and horsemint, into the native
Wild flowers of Florida, showy White Indigo, the white-
Flowered red-fruited Partridge Berry.
I want to come back hardy as a boxer, old as Indians,
I want to be sipped
By the stiff-winged buckeye butterfly, the Gulf Fritillary,
Tiger Swallowtail, Painted Lady.
Burn me down, cut me clear, and watch
My seeds spread and return, surprising everyone
With a torch of yellow abundance, of inch-long, three-
Budded purple blooms, of Resurrection Fern.
Let the floods come and the droughts. I’ll be dry one
Year and muddy, then you’ll see me along the
Highway, orange-yellow bursts returning year after
Year. Think of it: my grandmother splitting open
Into bean-red flowers now that she’s shed poverty,
A father’s beatings, drink, her last
Breath. See her in the pink Purple coneflowers, spread-
ing butterflies’ darling. And my Cherokee great-
Great grandmother n longer giving birth, dying young
Before seeing her seven surviving children grown,
Blossom, as she blossoms now into creamy white flowers
Of wild Horehound or as the easy re-seeder Red Sage, attracting
Hummingbirds and my day angels, sturdy Sulphurs.
My daughter, pick me by the hundreds in a meadow
And plunk me in a jelly jar on your
Table, or watch me lean into the grasses. Learn to stretch past
All mothers’ terror, love me and the more
That is me, as the Cherokee knew to love
What is underground, the earthworms and the moles.