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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578429" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Sowing</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578429" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Upon the wind sheltered hillside, <br>the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay<br>over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flander's Field.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578429" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At years fall, fields of rape roll like waves, <br>in the harshness of winter-sleet, stray boulders bow; <br>like the backs of mothers, daughters sowing.<br>Their nails torn, ragged and bleeding.<br>They bleed by the moon, and son upon the field.<br>No white crosses mark their passing.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578429" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For hundreds of years, and crops of rape, barley and wheat; <br>small hands, soft hands, and soft thighs bleed.<br>They bleed daughters, and sons.<br>They birth the fields and in the fields by consent or rape; <br>unadorned by silver stars or purple hearts.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=578429" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Today, as May's sun wakes the blood blasted pasture, <br>each precious dropp blooms…..a heroines acknowledgement<br>the poppies yield.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Deborah+Guzzi">Deborah Guzzi</a></strong></div>

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