her eclectic deaths
     tell of a spirit 
          atuned to renewal

a mark of the beast for every one
     in mass graves covered well

     never does she excuse the enemy
          she diminishes the defeat

           this scarred landscape to labour in
                her aim a green butterfly field

those who come after peace will learn her ways

and so grey cells are reimagined 
     however dark they may be
positive signs and colourful thought
     in her bright graffiti

those who enter here wakened with lightening

finding flattened children's dreams
     wildly crayoned, torn apart
          taken from the street and stuck together
               her treasured works of art

she could if encouraged become a saint
     and all the rains fall where most needed
but it remains to inspire the young to live
     -her visionary heart beat to be heeded

any efforts to explode her myth
     dismantle her motives
          smother her cries.....
oh how she laughs in the face of danger
     this is an invitation for her incarnations 
to begin again
                         and again
                                          and again