This year, a flood of daffodils along the road, 
stopping me in my tracks a mile from home. 
In my eyes, sudden tears. 

Also this year: bombs, blockade, hunger 
and more hunger, while trucks wait 
at the border, full of medicine and rotting food. 

Both. The same week. The same day. 

How can the world endure such extremes? 

No, I’m wrong. The world is made of such 
extremes. Corded together. Thick ropes, interwoven. 

It is the living heart that swells, 
grows fragile, 
breaks. 

Bio: Jennifer L. Freed