Apr 16th 2009 Who are they?
Who are they, these men who murder flowers?
I often see their tracks upon the crushed white flowers of spring’s sweet promise.
The fertile earth compacted into ruts and grooves – nothing can grow there.
Who are they, these men who murder flowers?
I see them speeding down the road, hell bent.
Neither seeing, nor smelling the paradise surrounding them.
Who are they, these men?
They hurry to find a thrill for their souls, thinking it’s at the end of a speedometer,
Never knowing it exists already, contained within their beating hearts.
Who are they, these men who murder flowers?
And when can we enjoy the protection they can give us?
It’s the big disconnect that sends them rushing and crushing.
Perhaps we need to send out a search and rescue for their souls.
(Sara Melnicoff contributed this poem.)
No Comments » Posted by admin / Poetry and Sara Melnicoff and Uncategorized