Blood of the Azaleas

‘Tis centuries past when the Earth first saw
the Blood of the Azaleas.
The tip of the steel scabbard tried to make them fall,
but their trunks were thick and roots made firm.

O’r the years the plants have bled,
staining their bright petals crimson red.
Through flames and floods when all was done and said,
they survived and their branches and roots reached down.

Wave after wave, slice after slice, pruning after pruning,
bleeding after bleeding they still stood strong,
keeping their purple, red, pink and white petals,
never letting the crimson stains linger too long.

Now with our many bushes all across the state,
after all these years, we stand once again
in a Land of Confusion and Hate.
But our roots run deep and our trunks are strong.

Should we Azaleas be made to bleed again
we will be ready to stand firm,
and the seed that was planted long ago
will not perish no matter the fight or flame.

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