Another War With Poppies

ANOTHER WAR WITH POPPIES

In Afghan fields the poppies grow
Beside the rubble, row on row,
And to the sun they raise their heads
But by tonight they may be dead -
Plowed under in an endless round
Of hide and seek each time they're found.
We make them break
We make them bend
But soon they raise their heads again.

Another war with poppies....

It has to be a mournful sound
To bury poppies underground.
The symbol that we hold so high
Now trampled low beneath the sky,
Dividing us as we all turn
And watch the graceful poppies burn.

Another war with poppies....

Anna Pudan
Written on March 21, 2007