The Plumerias continue growing
without my father here to keep them.
The Jasmine are still fragrant
though he’s no longer here to smell them.
The weeds that I potted
become beautiful flowers because
my father taught me to appreciate a flower,
no matter what we name them.
“Flowers for My Father,” A poem by J.E.DiPalo
Photos by J.E.DiPalo
After the battle, Corbin and Gabriel stand alone.
“All is still. As if the world has stopped breathing,” I said.
“Peace that follows battle is a futile peace. It is time to count dead and to assess which side stands closer to the win,” Gabriel said, looking amongst the fallen. “There are no winners in a battle. Only those who remain unbroken.”
“Unbroken?” I said. “No one in a battle comes out unbroken. Uninjured, yes.”
Read more in Divided, my novel TBA, Fall of 2017. Visit jedipalo.com for updates!