Blowball l, 1943 by M.C Escher
We are fragile seeds
resting on a dying bloom
waiting for God’s breath
to send us to eternity.
With harried eyes
we stare at one
another seeing
our division by
race and faith
forgetting our
existence is
joined to the
same death star.
Violence
has grayed
our world
into burnt
ashes.
Yet somewhere
within our failure
there are
tiny seeds
fertile with
the hope
our children
will be the
blossoms of
peace.
©Susie Clevenger 2013
Ekphrasis is the graphic, often dramatic,
description of a visual work of art.
Comments
You had it in a nutshell in the opening stanza so I feared the rest--but you fooled me by taking the story to new depths and heights. What a great novel this would make--or an anime! Beautiful imagery, extended metaphor, of a bloom burnt to ashes with maybe seeds, maybe God holds its breath.
♥
K
only
the peace
among Protestants;
but the sword
to all others.
For a carnal
one-worldism, will do
no good,
for man,
nor God.