We pray you Throw to earth this unprevailing woe and Think of us as of a father.

Woe, thrown to the earth
Will burrow itself into the ground and nestle itself
among the roots of the other plants.
It will reach its feathery roots
Around it, pulling on the vines that are its neighbors.
It will poke its head through the topsoil,
A new face of woe:
Despair, transfigured
Rising, inch by inch
Into a tiny green shoot aspiring to the sky. Woe will push its way through the ends of leaves
Until it balloons out into a plump pod of loneliness
Which unfolds and drips
Pink, white and red
Raining pollen of pain and dispersing it
Out into the wind.


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