Holly Brians Ragusa
2 min readApr 18, 2021


73 Wild Flowers

For minds lost to time in an unkind world


How can we pick the flowers

With hands bent behind our back

This blissful ignorance

Forcing us to know

Remembrance is not guaranteed

Our minds were made to forget.

Where are we when we don’t know

Repeatedly questioned confusion and pain answer

Only the flowers in our hand know hurt

As badly as the arm now breaking

Why is is breaking? We forget.

Stems sense separation from a source

When will we know we were made to forget

Everything in his image in a pew

On the street we are out of sight

Followers tithe on Sunday

Tighten the hold of god’s child on Friday

Bodies forget to render payment

For that demanded by being

Needs only some can afford

Denied we feed in uncaring rows

With people who’ve forgotten to be human

Cars pass coldly by, Steel and stone surround

Then looking out, we remember,

Where we are. Of this place. Softer.

A mind instinctive moves from hard surface

Green leads us to beauty in wild things

Flowers open at our touch

Remind us what it is to be gentle

To use care

To see value of that which is under our hand

To remember what is worth remembering

Though we were made to forget

What reliance on rules

When our very minds refuse them

What truth lies in hunger charged

What price is kindness when not given

hatred grows strong beneath Blue skies

Assess the threat of picking flowers

Assess the threat of no empathy

Assess the threat of aggression on frailty

See vulnerable flowers crush beneath boots

That won’t give them the time of day

The time of their life

Forgotten in a blossom

For a mind lost to time is not the threat




Holly Brians Ragusa

Poet-Author-Family Ringleader- Late Bloomer- Advocate for Arts/Ed/History/Kindness #FactOverFiction #HelpHumanityGoViral #AmWriting She/Her