On one particular walk,
On one particular day,
My eyes landed on the most gorgeous Petunias.
Strikingly vibrant and incredibly gentle all at once,
There they were in all their beauty.
And as I took them in,
The world sinister entered my consciousness.
For, upon my seeing the colorful flowers and admiring them in the warm summer breeze, my mind had plunged into overdrive.
War could possibly exist,
or any violence at all.
One human being inflicting pain upon another intentionally; it made no sense.
I could not square it in my mind: the existence of both dreadful violence and pink Petunias in the same world.
My mind rejected it, could not grasp such a concept, such a coexistence.
And that is why I paused so long at the Petunias,
Pensive and disturbed.
Sinister sinister sinister,
The dark word circling round and round my brain, as I stood watching them.
I walked home,
War and Petunias; Petunias and War.
I did not understand.
Violence and Petunias; Petunias and Violence.
I did not get it.
If perpetrators of violence and hate stood on that quiet street where I had,
Looking at the flowers,
Feeling the breeze,
Would they still be so moved to carry out violence on others?
I didn’t see how; for I had been utterly at peace as I stood there, and truly believed the power of the Petunias could do the same for anyone.
I guess I would never know.
That was that day,
The gorgeous Petunias,
And the word Sinister.
How odd it had been that that word had reached the forefront of my mind so quickly.
It hadn’t been odd at all.