Responses to On the hills of East of France


by Anonymous

Nothing has ever made me wonder
How a peculiar prickly plant
Could be so pretty in the middle of the night
Blooming ’til dawn; a beauty on her own
Flaunting her looks to the crickets on my roof
Only to be disappointed
When the sun shines on her owner’s face and it glistens.

Oh, but please don’t be fooled by the fruit she gives
The color red with a pink-ish hue
The scales are tipped with greens
Just as if a blue was the blue
No, she isn’t offering her life
For us to consume it happily
Maybe she does this because she wanted to be freed

Because she was once a whole, an entirety
Because her limbs were torn off, her wings
Because we kept her underground when she never wished to be

Since then, she crawled up high to reach the light
Since then, her guard was up and grew her thorns
Since then, she blooms at night and withers at day

For once, she gave her all, we gave nothing at all
For once, she slithered, for future and not for freedom
For once… she was one

This poem is a response to RewriteCOP’s call for creative responses to Nicolas Hercelin’s On the hills East of France.

Read more creative responses here.