Monday, March 20, 2023

Rondeau for the Defenders of Bakhmut

In Bakhmut’s fields, flowers grow

though missiles fall and shells explode.

Green shoots spring from shattered paves,

small flagpoles that will someday wave

above the dead, banners of gold.


Not here the poppy, nor the rose

defends the fallen who repose

silent in death, in life the brave

in Bakhmut’s fields.


So are the names of heroes told:

in spattered blood across the snow,

in sunflower-guarded rows of graves.

Who never knew their city saved,

yet fearless faced the fate they chose

in Bakhmut’s fields.


Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

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