The wildflowers will not survive.

A mumble and murmur stomping

the surface of the earth has displaced

their fragile roots.

The smoke will rise,

scatter,             stumble in the wind.

The gentle opening of petals to sun

will be smothered by air clouded over

by a thick explosion of bravado.

The wildflowers will not survive,

but they might return.

Once the dust settles,

a few seeds may scatter in the wind

in search of new bed to lay

their roots,                         to rebuild.

In time:

the rain will return,

as will the wind.

as will the flowers;

just as surely as war,

and explosion               and the uprooting

            of innocent life

will return.

We forget,                         in our windowsills

            and sunshine,

even if we were planted in this spot for generations

a glorious tragedy is always close by.

---

Katrina Kaye is a writer and educator living in Albuquerque, NM. She hoards her published writings on her website poetkatrinakaye.com and is seeking an audience for her ever-growing surplus of poetic meanderings. She is grateful to anyone who reads her work and in awe of those willing to share it.

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