What do you do with fallen flowers on the ground
Dead brown leaves
No one ever dare look at
Should I put them on the tombs of soldiers
where the tears of their mothers have dried
or their wives have died
No more wars, my dearest.
I refuse to give them flowers that fade
Nor seeds that never grow.
Tonight a thousand prayers for the children of war
orphaned by beasts and dictators
in our world of parasites.
Yet green weeds still survive
and the winds blow the yellow dandelions.
For the dying and those who fight to live.
I thirst for freedom
and thank the dark clouds
from which the painful rains pour.
I never should cry.
each minute I pray the rosary
We have forgotten God.
There is no yin nor yang
No Buddha to guide the heavens.
Even prayers for atheists.
As millions are burned on the earth.
My small son held the
pretty flower in his hand.
“Mommy, where are we going?”
I smiled.
For every day, we lay a purple rose
on his brother’s graveyard.
For peace. For love.
