The Lie of the Lily

White Lillies

Image: insieme by amira_a

The little girl held tighter to her fathers hand, her bottom lip trembling. Sunken eyes stared towards the front of the church and at the wooden box before her. Mournful tears caressed her cheeks, her throat constricted in torture. Her mother lay beyond her reach now, within the box, guarded by white lilies.

From this moment and forever white lilies meant death.

 

A boy tumbles over and over, giggling in the sun. Down the grassy hill he rolls as he watches out for his mother. He notices the sun glisten off her hair as she crouches down before him. Then she lies upon the ground to snap the pretty flowers. In her hand a camera deftly held. He watches as his mother smiles and snaps those pretty white lilies in the field.

From this moment and forever white lilies meant beauty.

 

A boy watched his uncle sign off his written letter. He folded it and placed it on his lap. The boy surprised to see the soldier crying. His father placed a supportive hand as he too watched his brother. He’s going to war, his father said, and he’s very, very scared. He’s afraid that he will never see his one true love again. The boy watched as tears fell to the white lilies on his lap.

From this moment and forever white lilies meant fear.

 

The girl skipped for joy as she left the church trailing behind her aunty. She spun around in pure glee as the rice came tumbling down. The air was filled with sunshine and birdsong, it was the happiest she could be. She looked up at her aunty, beaming in radiant beauty watching her as she kissed the man who held her hand. The girl twirled in joy. Her heart sang as she smelt the sweet perfume of the white lilies in her hand.

From this moment and forever white lilies meant love.

 

Death, beauty, fear, love – how can they all be true?

They are not you see, it’s those damn lilies – they’ve been lying to you.

I felt relieved when I realized this. Tricky little lilies, making me argue and fight. I always thought my lilies were right. Turns out the lilies are liars.

You see they were never the answer all along, they were always the question?

I honor the lilies that you hold,

Brett

If you liked this you may also like……The Story of You.

 

 

9 comments

  1. Beautiful, Brett. Perfectly put. And do you know what’s interesting (I was going to say weird, then thought how ‘weird’ has stopped applying to so many things)… I decided yesterday my next blog is going to be about Truth. We are in synch!

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  2. Thank you so much for inviting me in, Brett. This post alone is beautiful, insightful and makes me think a million things. I look forward to following one another.

    It is interesting that lillies (calla lillies) were what my mom carried in her wedding, what we used to accent the flowers on her casket, and the flowers I carried in my wedding to remind me of her beautiful spirit.

    Thank you so much for the chance to read your work and the blessing of letting it move me.

    Peace to you, new friend,

    Allison

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    1. Allison,
      Thank you so much for reading this post, you honor me. Thank you also for sharing your story. I’m touched by your own connection to the story and that it moved you.
      Here’s to the pleasant memories of the past, may they comfort us in the present and inspire us for the future.
      In honor of your lilies,
      Brett

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    1. Thanks Phoenix, I appreciate your feedback. I, like most people, have harbored my share of “lies” forged by my own perspective as I grew up. Being able to recognize this has been an incredibly freeing experience for me.

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