History forgets violence, cold-
blooded, the extinguishment,
and if not, the raw,
steadied torture.
This tenderness
rose from a river of blood.
Flowers in the garden,
wafting for no particular reason,
except a calling for bees.
Beauty I pick up on,
beauty like a sunset in the field,
blooming poppies,
just another revolution,
a day on Earth.
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 5:51 PM UTC
History forgets violence, cold-
blooded, the extinguishment,
and if not, the raw,
steadied torture.
This tenderness
rose from a river of blood.
Flowers in the garden,
wafting for no particular reason,
except a calling for bees.
Beauty I pick up on,
beauty like a sunset in the field,
blooming poppies,
just another revolution,
a day on Earth.
