The Bleeding Hearts

It’s springtime and my bleeding hearts need tending.
I see last year’s dead stalks laced with dried pine needles –
the evergreen leaves that were supposed to last forever.
I pluck and tear the loathsome stalks away
discarding all of winter’s sorrows
uncovering bruised-purple warriors
that will turn to green and reappear as
small, floral droplets of blood.

The new stalks are corpse white
with raw, finger-like sprouts
rising from bleached bones.
They foreshadow blossoms to come –
blossoms young and alive,
made of blushing pink arms
that cradle and care for
the delicate drops of blood
turned pure white,
holding winter’s sorrows
so they won’t darken sunny days.

I tend my bleeding hearts –
they carry my fading distress –
and winter seems so far away.

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16 Responses to The Bleeding Hearts

  1. A lovely, thoughtful, sensitive poem. I love the way tending the bleeding hearts mirrors the discarding of sorrows. My neighbor has a beautiful bleeding heart plant, but I’ve not had any luck growing them.

  2. magsx2 says:

    A beautiful poem, for a beautiful flower, very nice.

  3. One of my favorite perennials, since I was a child …

  4. lostupabove says:

    Thank you for following my blog.

  5. I can only hope that the bed in which they now lay, will not yet, wear the “corpse white” coat of a winter departing..Nicely done, Ariadne, nicely done..

  6. Thanks, Jake. I hope so, too!

  7. munchow says:

    A beautiful poem with so much depth. So many ways one can read bleeding hearts. May spring soon be here!

  8. Synchronicity! I was just walking with a friend in some woods yesterday and we found some wild bleeding hearts snuggled against a tree. It was my first real Spring revelation, after several weeks of weather that seemed unable to make up its mind.

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