Where do I find the words

Where do I find the words
Among the morass of ink
The letters maligned, uttered, absurd
A muddle-mired think
Er, rambles, I suppose, suffice for prose
My malady made to favour
No Death I know nor His stanza’d throes
As bitter, mortal savour

In a Field of Sunflowers

From Paul Sonne's Twitter:  Next to the crash site, the most beautiful field of sunflowers swaying in the summer wind. #MH17

From Paul Sonne’s Twitter: Next to the crash site, the most beautiful field of sunflowers swaying in the summer wind. #MH17

And there they rest
In a field of sunflowers
Swaying in the summer breeze
Families frozen, locked in place
A blight on discovery
Those returned from prayer
From one of 5 times a day
Lain in a field
Beneath the sunflower’s sway

298

In a ball of light,
I saw their lives ignite,
extinguished, in the press

And although I
Barely batted an eye,
I recognized each death

As each word blames
The unrepentant flames
On his personal cause

Soon, our TV sets
Will certainly forget
The number that’s been lost