Daffodils

Written: March 17, 2022

Blue and yellow colors wave. Speaking war across the world. A madman is running the show, overthrowing sovereignty.

No one can agree on the difficult decision to stop him. He marches forward unchecked.

A crushed teddy, a man is lying face up. A white sheet covers his face. His suitcase stands at the ready. He was in the process of fleeing, but I ask you where do you go when your home is no more?

The street looks like yours and mine. There is a fence off in the distance. A woman lies behind him. Their deaths are etched in digital to show the offenses committed. There will be an accounting for your crimes.

Yellow are the daffodils pushing through the black soil at the end of my street. I think how fortunate I am to see them, to not be amidst such turmoil. Blue, I think, was the color of his suitcase. My memory isn’t clear. No names were given. Maybe they didn't know. The story was fleeting. I may never know.

I’m a believer. I bow my head to pray. You know his name, O father of the heavens, hallowed be thy name. Your kingdom can't come fast enough, your servants boldly proclaim.

It's getting too difficult to live here, too hurtful a thing to bear. They’re failing each other daily, father. Please step in. We, the people, yours of the earth, sincerely care. We are watering our faces and littering our shirts with tears.

I am wearing a blue shirt today, and it reminds me of a flag I never thought about less than twenty-some days ago. All I know is I want the madman to stop running the show.

Today is July 27, 2022.