there:
a rising nearness, a beacon
its blueness a raggy topknot mix
of indigo, azure and violet
that humbles you to silence
as you stumble across its sudden fulness
signalling from wheat-field trespass
Consider its other names:
Hurtsickle from its tough stems -
that angelicaed haze of greyey-green
blunting the reaper’s scythe
Cyanus, memento of the garland
his namesake garnered as a lad
to frame his love for Flora
Centaurea, after Chiron the centaur
who swathed Hercules’ poisoned arrow-wounds
in braids of sky-blue petal-heads
and was healed
Remember these
and recall this flower
the single bloom to grow in Nagasaki’s aftermath
Hiroshima’s wreath
Cornflower,
talisman of hurt, of youth, of hope
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem