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Of Child Eyed Bombers, and Daffodils

Of Child Eyed Bombers, and Daffodils
by Wendie HansenSONY DSC
 
You’ve loved them too, perhaps.
people, young or old with eyes like that,
they have sat at my table and I at
theirs
and I have visited their eyes
and loved them.
 
So while thousands watched, and tweeted,
justifiably enraged,
rightly fearful,
not defeated,
while the mother fucker Child Eyed Bomber
stealer of lives and oh so many vigorous limbs
was diligently and courageously pursued,
…..we pursued daffodils
 
Pursued them up a well worn path, past
dormant and newly felled trees over a
Spring-full brook, babbling with possibility,
Up and up to….
Ahhh,  there, look oh look, at the light
of the awaiting “host”,
golden beneath the trees
and , as promised, “dancing  in the breeze”
 
Ten thousand or more
the poet had said, but these
Were planted at the start of the War
a golden balm for those we would never receive.
and my inward eye, blissful in wandering solitude
saw then the multitude of lives and limbs
saw brides and grooms, of children sleeping, of grandparents smiling,
of parents weeping, of people baking bread and sowing fields
and running races, of making love, of faces and faces and faces
….stopped.
I saw them there, and then…
Should we count them?
Their bombs, … or ours?
Dare we? would we find parity?
Have we ever counted them, the multitude
of lives and limbs…theirs and, for a moment not ours?
Might we find in their tangled masses
The motherfucker Child Eyed Bombers
Justifiably enraged,
Rightly fearful,
Not deafeated
To answer our questions:
 
Should we count them?
….Or plant more daffodils?

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