Kosovo, 1999: Flowers have gone to children, every one

I forced did make the mountains a hard home for my children slender
I forced on them such leaves and twigs
As giving water who would listen
Nettles not, crocus few
We have put lips
To the fern’s heart
Crossed and uprooted
We prayed for honeysuckle
A want unbooted
I have visited upon these my children slender
False feasts of frail flowers
I have applied upon their crackling lips
Poultice from nearby peat
Flowers have gone to children,
Every one

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