The Posy

by Rob McKinnon

Waiting at the prearranged spot
at the gates of the Botanic Gardens,
she held a posy of orange marigolds
nervously in her hand.

This would be their first meeting
since stern missionary nuns
decided that she would be better-off
raised by white adoptive parents
far away from her red ancestral lands.

She hoped her mother was going to like
the freshly cut flowers from her garden,
she hoped her mother was going to like
the child that was taken away from her
and the adult that child had become,
she hoped the reunion was going to help
fix the fractured being of that child and adult.

Waiting at the prearranged spot
at the gates of the Botanic Gardens,
a warm north wind brushed her face
as she squeezed the posy a little tighter.