For Ibrahim, Abu Ward's Son

Little one, I wish
I could give you
my very best words,
in lovely, curved layers
like the world of a rose--
something fitting for your father
and for you
who have lost him.

But words are not enough,
are they? They only
designate the space
where something is missing.

"The essence of the world
is a flower," he said.
How right that essence
is also a scent,
something real and aching
which we know
but cannot touch.

For you, precious one,
there is still
"the dearest freshness,"
even in all this dust.
I believe for you.
I believe many gardens for you.