Posted December 19, 2011
The Rose
I remember once, in another lifetime,
noticing a lone rose arising defiantly
from beneath the rubble
outside the destroyed city of Hue.
It had no business being there,
adding color to the drabness of war,
beauty to the ugliness of destruction,
and the hope of life
when life held nothing but suffering and death.
It was a contradiction and created confusion
amidst the clarity of killing to survive.
I stepped on it . . .
There are no flowers in a war zone;
nor color, nor beauty, nor hope.
Copyright © Camillo C. Bica 2011
