In contrast to 'The Place Where We Are Right' by Yehuda Amichai
from the place where we are right
flowers rise
radiant
colours loud against the sky
stems taut with
certainty
they bloom atop a lie
roots threading
shallow promises
feed the soil
dry
there are no nutrients here
just a facade
a fallacy
that gives way
as colours
leach into the air
and flowers bow
their once-bright glory
folding into itself
only then
within this state of
doom
in the stillness of their wounds
through their own undoing
do they see the ground
a silence heavy with
the truth
that came too late in the journey
but the story doesn't end
the earth starts again
feeds off
the rot
new growth born from
adaptation
resilience
evolution
the dead zone is alive