I was so busy living,
I did not see
the poinsettia flowers
had emerged
outside my window,
I did not see
the poinsettia flowers
had emerged
outside my window,
last winter
the tree was struggling;
losing a battle to
white ants and blight,
the leaves dried up,
the stems turned hollow,
gradually turning into
a monument to
defeat
(still, I took a spade to it
and cleaned it out,
applied medication,
said a prayer)
all winter it was dead,
withered and waiting,
a stark hand against a sky,
then this summer it came alive
green with leaves
raw with scars
a fighter,
like me
today I see the flowers,
skimming the tops
and God said,
look for my signs
