Gaza’s dark earth drinks 

the blood of it’s own

as dog-toothed bombs 

bark across an amber sky. 

Mother’s bring their rage 

to burst through the rubble – 

pulling pieces from doom-colored dust, 

blossoming green hints of hope

against burning bricks of destruction. 

Each mouth a sepal. 

Each eye a petal. 

Each limb a stem. 

Every child a flower

that will haunt you in the spring, 

as red poppies bloom – 

in defiance of the days when men 

failed as gods and lived like beasts 

consumed by their hate and greed.