A bomb took his brother,
A sniper’s bullet took his dad,
and when you asked about his mum and sister,
he just looked away.
So, when his was the only sunflower that
didn’t come up,
I thought, jeez, the Universe really doesn’t like this kid.
I didn’t blame him when he threw the pot against
But in the middle of the muddy impact zone
there was a speck of green;
a minute, fragile finger poking
from that skinny, stripy little seed.
He picked it up, refilled the pot,
replanted it with such tenderness,
then, for the first time, smiled.
I had to turn away to hide the tears
as a tiny shoot of hope stirred inside me, too.
© Nicola Davies, from Choose Love, Graffeg 2022