Seasonings by Rasmus K. Robot

Seasonings by Rasmus K. Robot

They always came together to listen to her
as if from the lips of her soul,
she kissed the words of peace

It is my Flower of poetry
who leads the daily protest

The blessed crowds
bring their flowers
to season the day
with joy sprinkled

It is the season when the flowers explode on the sidewalk
where people surround the Flower, my dear one
and the blessed are kissed with new news of freedom
a season for reason, for progress, a word, but

My flower
was the last to speak,
the last to kiss the crowd when

the flowers were no longer in season
and a winter hail of bullets reigned

A word in the air was lost in a breeze in the
season when the flowers explode on the sidewalk,
yet its spices are still back in the open fields

pain obscures an unstable sun
and the flowers are covered in blood.
Rasmus K. Robot