This poem was not in response to any NaPoWriMo prompt, but rather a phrase I heard on a CNN newscast out of Ukraine. The counterpoint of dried blood from massacre, and a bouquet of fresh-cut spring flowers.
Dried Blood and Flowers
Makeshift graves for the bodies, their only crime,
Being there when the invaders felt like target practice.
On the ground, blood stains where they fell,
Dried now, beside a cluster of flowers, remembrance
For the unknown fallen, for family members taken, and soldiers
Defending against an indefensible war.
This is a war of atrocities, by aggressors who lack all humanity.
Vicious animals, with no respect for their so-called brothers.
In their wake, dried blood and flowers.
Carol A. Stephen
April 8, 2022