Winter surprised one
November morning up on the Roszadomb in Budapest.
Descending into freshly fallen
snow – earlier than expected
I rush past a rose bush layered
lush, a brighter white
Flakes falling damp like dew,
grasping
holly leaves hanging heavy off
amber stems
Flakes so delicate and wanting
no rejection
piling on petals resilient and
full of might
Virgin snow covered white
rose.
A shutter snaps capturing this
white rose wanting
life beyond lapels, vases and
fragrant gardens
Long a symbol of innocence and
an untarnished world
taking on new life during
revolt
Hoping for intervention,
nothing divine transpires beyond
unfulfilled promises of support
that doom defiance
Virgin snow covered white
rose.
Bare hands assembled so many
barricades erected
holding out gallantly only to
be
Crushed bloody red by rolling
tanks while sewing seeds
of future revolts behind a
rusting iron curtain
Twelve years later in a Prague
Spring
twelve years from a
shipyard in Gdansk
Virgin snow covered white rose.
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