the crusaders are confused
they did not know the aftermath of burning
pyers of innocents
they had not anticipated sprouts of spirits
that would not die
they pulverized the fields where the seeds
of love had been sown
but by then squirrels had eaten away the seeds
and scattered them in a valley
where no crusaders ever attack
the ghosts of fire reside in this valley
engulfing every one who has
tried to stop the river
tame the winds
and cover the sun