The Poppy's Nerve

The earth was cracked, a dusty page,

the weeds a tangled, brittle prayer.

I’d walked away from this small stage,

and left it all to dry despair.

Then, in the ruin, a sharp surprise,

a poppy, bold and fiercely red.

It caught the sun right in my eyes,

a bloom where all seemed lost and dead.

It broke the ground, so dry and spent,

a single flag, a wild intent.