In the shadow of the bomb

​There is a place,
​where the sunflowers grow.
​With such a striding spirt,
​that no frontier can contain it.

​Delicate blossoms,
are ​still in gnarled hands.
​Of those from
​an accursed place.

​Yet, still they stand.
​In unity, strength and belonging.
​To face the demons breath.
And give us hope,
for a world with no strangers

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