Wildflowers
Luminous in sadness
That holds their blooms together
Before they fall into the abyss
Nodding a silent scent
Into the breeze, languid salt of tears
Drooping low at the ruin of human race
Waning colors, into the night
Gathered in bunches of feeble shapes
Of hope towards the waning moon
Drooping stems that bear the weight
Of those who are lost in war
Adorning vases along tombstones
Silent wildflowers, pressed against
broken hearts, and shallow breaths
Petals shredding themselves, letting go
Testimony to all that is trampled
Tickling thorns coax us awake
to the tragedy of our fallen selves
Perennial in our ignorance
insistently we flirt with
war, mortality and grief
