There is no “right time” no “perfect place”

As wildflowers grow on bomb sites  and on  graves
We can love, despite our grieving hearts
Think not of the time nor of the place

Sorrow , opened up, creates new space.
Despite the pain  that comes in sudden darts
So wildflowers grow on bomb sites  and on  graves

A flower seed needs  little,  but its grace
Will help the heart that sees alas blank charts
Thinks not of time, just where there may be space

So an  Eden may be begin, embraced
Although our feet stand on this ground apart
For wildflowers grow on bomb sites  and on  graves

In love, the splits will heal at their own pace
And hatred held, contained will breed no shark
Think  of any time or any place

We look out today at visions stark
Yet sings the immemorial skylark
As wildflowers grow on bomb sites  and on  graves
There is no “right time” no “perfect place”