for young children in the middle east
gunfire is just like popcorn being made,
not something to cause great alarm -
just another sound in the night's cacophony.

for the school children in the cities,
tanks, not buses, now roam the streets,
a presence of great military life
looming over their lives each day.

exploding buses and marketplaces on fire,
constant chatter about intruding foreigners
from uncles and older cousins,
inevitable martyrs for a cause kids can't understand.

is it any wonder how, when raised in such a place,
with warfare corrupting a childhood
otherwise spent in school and with family,
hate and misunderstanding define their existence?

by our supposed action of freeing this generation,
are we in fact dooming them instead?
raising them in a culture of prejudice and violence,
and expecting them to be something different?

with mostly excitement
and a dash of trepidation,
i visit the nearby flower shop,
hoping to find something i'll like.

greeted by aisles of blossoms
and hanging florets,
i realize making a choice
will not be so easy.

browsing, i find some i like,
some i don't, and some i might.
i take particular note of a few,
to which, for whose reason anyone can say, i am drawn.

then, with the ignorance only
an amatuer flower shopper can muster,
i lean in close,
and smell.