Hearts

“…In their solitude and beauty,
flowers say, ‘I have sacrificed myself for you.'”

~ Eugene Gloria

Many hearts are buried
in every field: flower
hearts, thorn hearts,

bone hearts, knuckle
and finger hearts;
veins of spittle

and scum and bottle
shards, bits of barbed
wire looped

at intervals
like ribbons— hearts
of the dead or

disappeared who gave
their lives to hope
and work, who even now

write letters legible
through hardened
ground—

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.