Where the Poppies Bloom

Red unfurls in the wake of crisp autumn air
Green turns to yellow, turns to orange, turns to scarlet
Perhaps this is a cry from nature
Burning leaves bursting aflame
Revolting against burning bodies 

Pain bleeds pain, builds military gain
As armored trucks and fighter drones
Crush the flowers and crush their bones
But despite the oppressors’ conviction
The poppies stand in resistance

Are there leaves left to turn scarlet?
Are there trees left to bear fruit?
The ground is painted red with the blood of martyrs
Nature is revolting in this gross atrocity of autumn

Goodbye to the butterflies
They will not stay for a while
Goodbye to the doves
They have no place to soar

There will come a day when the sky holds only rain
Peaceful drops that wash away the scent of bombs
The hum of war planes will be replaced
By gentle whispers of a breeze
And the crackle of changing leaves

For 76 years, they razed the land
Tearing out remnants of that crimson hued beauty
But those resilient flowers will not be torn down
Finding their place in the rubble of a destroyed garden
And creating home where it was before

Soft feet will forget the harshness of rubble
And sink into luscious green moss
Bellies will be filled with sustenance
Gentle hearts remembering what was lost

Perhaps when all of this is over
The scarlet poppies will bloom once more