i saw a poppy in the field
waving its bright red head in the air
one fine summer afternoon
and i said
'the storm is coming
dark on the horizon
it will tear your petals
from your face
and crush your body
bend it down into the earth
'why can't you be stronger
like the thistle over there
with its spikes and firm flowers
no storm will worry that one'
and the poppy replied
'my beauty is inseparable
from my fragility
just as the thistle's beauty
comes from its daunting strength
'when the storm comes
we will all do as our nature requires
and afterwards you will remember us
for the truth we embodied
and not lament us
for what we could not be'.
a reading of this poem with music
