Arrested by a Flower.

Wandering in someone else's garden (centre),

three degrees under a dazzling sun set in a sky blue sky,

inwardly sorrowful at the ugliness, cruelty and culpable intransigence

of those bent on stealing someone else's country, culture and identity,

I stopped, or rather was arrested,

by the miracle that is the possibility of such astonishing beauty,

and its power to argue back against the ugly nihilism of human hubris,

simply by announcing its loveliness,

without rancour, violence or noise,

as a vision of grace, a moment of gift,

a coaxing tug towards hope for a heart tempted,

however briefly, to despair.