Dear Millennium: Of Edible Flowers and the Unborn

7 1 R D E A R M I L L E N N I U M : O F E D I B L E F L O W E R S A N D T H E U N B O R N K A R E N A N - H W E I L E E The unborn who never make it into this world are edible blossoms in the orphic throat of God, garlanded by floral seraphs. Yes, the sky-blue borage, the cilantro and fennel and calendula, the crystallized viola and skirted zucchini, the alyssum and the fava bean flowers, even the dahlia – the micro-fuchsia, and the dianthus, the garlic and chive, the ox-eyed sun-daisy, the shiso blossoms for mint julep, chi√onade garnish of sage and sorrel of ribboned jade, the umbels of onion blooms, the six-petaled bell pepper florets of nightshade, the hibiscus without hips, the ice plant flourishing on sea cli√s where I touched sweet pea entwined within the chaparral understory where a sand lizard, a brother who never came to be, who lost his tail before he was born, greets me every afternoon while sun bathing, his missing appendage reblooming with aplomb, as if admonishing our millennium with apostolic fervor – in lumine tuo videbimus lumen, in your light we see light. ...