More interested to know who I am writing for than why I am writing….. This guess work and a match factory that burnt down and now hosts a herbal garden should show you that some thing green grows back on burnt earth. Not for anyone in particular … just that life is stubborn. More stubborn than death , holding out for decades….That flower in the crack of the wall is stubborn. Like that kiss on your sleeping cheeks…. like that hug in rough winds when all else was uprooted….Like the eyes that refused to confront your treachery…….sometimes I think I should not write one more word….. The color peels off from my refrigerator…. as it growls…..I am dying life or living death….. songs do exist in this deaf world…..


      1. I felt drawn to re-read your poem and was rewarded when I did. I was reminded of Tennyson’s poem, “Flower in the Crannied Wall.” Do you know it? It ends: “but if I could understand what you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.”


      2. I have not read that šŸ™‚
        I have often discovered life where I least expected and stopped death when he was all ready to take a life …. I forgot my own existence in those moments. I wrote about this flower , because I did find it once when I least expected it…… Last words of Tennyson are beautiful , will look for it .Thank you for your generosity .

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