Vindicta:

Vindicta

When I was little

I spent my summer days

In the back garden

Of the house my father grew up in

With my grandmother,

the most beautiful bloom of my life.

Cornflower blue eyes,

Softly weathered skin,

Like the petals of white roses,

Lavender sprigs tucked in

The sleeves of her sweater.

The most perfect flower.

When I was little,

I would sit beside her

And pull the flowers from the ground.

Wanting to keep each one forever

She would pull me into her lap, and take my hands

Chubby, little palms blossom in withered old ones

She would wipe the dirt from my hands

And tell me not to pull the petals,

For it was like pulling the hair from

Mother Earth, stealing her favorite children away

And tears rained from my eyes

Because I had never meant to hurt Mother Earth.

From that day on

I never pulled the blossoms

Never stole a petal

Because I feared that if I made

Her mad that she would stop sharing

Her blooms with me.

But one day,

Mother Earth exacted her revenge

And the tears rained again

Splattering against the earth

As she withered and died,

And Mother Earth took her most beautiful bloom from me.

Today, I couldn’t help myself.

I pulled peonies and pansies,

I ripped rhododendrons from ground,

I tore tulips and tiger lilies,

Because Mother Earth had broken her promise, stolen my bloom

If I could not have mine, then she would never again have hers.