(from the Latin "columba," which means dove)
Bullets slice through complacency;
Shrapnel rips through our collective soul.
Anger moves with a steady malevolence like fire,
leaving a desert of ashes in its wake.
But nature, especially human, abhors a wasteland.
Like tentative blooms of hope,
spontaneous expressions of grief and compassion
spread like wildflowers through the ashes,
knitting together the jagged edges of our community
into a quilt of comfort
that speaks louder than bullets or bombs.
The columbine, a delicate mountain flower,
flourishes in harsh climes.
Nourished by weeping snow,
the columbine appears at the edge of winter
as an emissary of spring,
as a symbol of solace,
as an impromptu gift of beauty,
as a promise of peace.
- sjt Denver, CO
