the flowers

BY suman

 

Before

The stars fell again,

fast like flashes of lightning,

falling from the ailing sky

onto the grey city,

she shut her eyes to escape

to hide 

from the shadows,

lurking from the windows,

dark and mysterious,

they jumped around

causing little frights.

 

The little girl braves herself,

And walks forward

with her heart in her chest

filled with courage,

red and bright,

bold and shiny,

she takes a chance,

and flies away.

 

When the lily child,

Sussana, 

reaches her freedom,

it is dark,

lonely, dreary,

and foreign.

the rainy city of Michelangelo

has changed.

The city of spring filled with blooms and joy

has become the capitalist endeavour

for the machinations of war.

 

O war, O war,

The horror, the bloodshed, the destruction it brings

As fear and terror accompany his chariot.

The lily hides away as fear 

overtakes her.

 

She runs and runs

till her legs leave her,

it seems dark,

hopeless even,

till the lily sees the sun,

seeping through the edges

its light fighting 

away the darkness.

 

Her courage envelops her,

and she stands,

stands straight,

the wind blows her silky tresses,

the chocolate tresses,

and the deep brown warmth

of her eyes

which is her end.

 

The tiny man looms over her,

His small stature with his roaring voice,

The meek face yet a commanding leader.

He brings death and she

shies away.

 

The lily blooms in silence,

Silent and suffering

Despite the rainbow that cuts 

through her,

She remains silent.

 

Till she decides,

That time for change is now.


 

After

A new morning appeared,

light streams in,

and birds carry spring with them.

 

The lily had sprouted, and 

the darkness was gone.

She hid,

still hid from the world.

The world renewed,

but she lived in the past,

 

Soon, she stood,

and flew away to

the place where the lily

sparked, and started to blossom

for now, she was ready.

 

She moved to the past, 

from the light

back to the darkness,

The city was cold,

unwelcoming,

different and familiar

all at once.

 

She remembered her home,

her laughs and smiles,

her giggles, and days under the

Gorgeous summer sun.

She remembered the 

‘Papa, push more’ as she

swung, from that tiny little cherry tree

that grew along with her.

 

Her old home was gone,

still replaced by that something new,

that foreign, that acrid substance

that penetrated the air.

 

It clung to her,

and she struggled to breathe,

It was like drowning,

drowning.

 

But suddenly, there was light,

there was air,

there was change,

which the lily brought

along.

 

The lily’s courage bloomed yet again,

and through those fiery deep eyes,

that deep passion,

that bleeds red,

the purest of reds,

and with that courage,

she brought change.

 

The change that

evoked the good,

the kind,

the simple,

and honest.

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