I am a representative of many things: the color of life, a symbol of sacrifice, birth, death, love, hate. I am sweet victory and the collapsing nation in a soldier’s veins.
I am the sweetest strawberry kiss, the tart cranberry of wedded bliss. Women learn to embrace my presence in their dark crevices. They celebrate and hate me, morn my three season absence. But then they shall bring forth a new life bathed in my essence. Men enjoy a little bit of me, for sport of course. Sprinkle just enough to commit to bravery, but not enough to martyr. Valor bought without excessive bandaging of the ego.
I’m not a sluggish purple, not a dying blue hue as I slow fade from your life. You pray I would dance once more over those ancient cheekbone hills, but as I am life I am also death.
You’ll wash me away in all my clotted glory, yet wear a flower of my design upon your lapel. Keep me close to remember them, their sacrifice. You’re forgetting my blessing upon the splendor of their life, their love.
Until we meet again, I will send you blues and greens, and the pink of your heart.