Green grow the ashes

Jane Dougherty Writes

You can see the artworks that inspired this san san for Paul Brookes’ April poetry challenge here, and read all the poetry that came out of them.

Green grow the ashes

Green grew high then golden faced,
scratched black with eyebrow-arching crows,
a glitter in the blue then screaming red.
The scattered gold, infertile waste,
where only twisted shrapnel grows,
red-bloomed black mouths O in surprise.
Tears glint among the ashes; dead
the hope that Firebird might rise.

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