she's drawn to the pink blooms
of brick city like a
moth
seeking solace from
the rites of spring
she could not achieve
in the dead of winter
camera clutched in her fingers
as she kneels
this world still filled with beauty
if you know where to look for it
love lost in the
throes
of the recent past
in the grit of the city
she's chosen to live in
while here blooms
blossoms
despite the cinder and ash
the chill and the mountains of rubble
left after decades of ruin and riot
she finding finely some
glimmer of what is
gone
in the glint of the
sun
off the petals of the flowers
that flood over her
she drowns in beauty
snapping pictures after
picture
as if to steal just enough
what grows naturally
here
to drag home behind her
a strange salvation
in the midst of despair
No comments:
Post a Comment