Blossoming Darkness

Darla Vaughan

To remember the trees;
green, tall kind ones.

A land of promise and beauty;
we lived in warmth & peace.

To remember the day
they called us heathens.

Our land, now flowing with blood,
as bodies suffocated the trees.

To remember the trees change;
dying as bodies putrefied, rotted.

Our land without living trees,
until the blossoming darkness.

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