Sarah Flores

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I hope they remember

Their parents’ forest
burned
      but 
          growing

        instead of our pain
        this 
        war-stricken 
         landscape

         rigid holding its breath

My grief 
    stashed in caves
buried
beneath 
mountains
fortified from quarry

rarely fracturing

A rockslide
lamenting
             crumbling
               stumbling
                  a shrieking avalanche
     crashing
       it halts
mute

       an unsettled calm

My husband's anger 
in depths
   whirling in trauma
yearning
for rest
rarely tranquil

An oceanic storm
 roaring
          brooding
        eviscerating
     erratic waves
   lashing
my stone cliffs
          With time

     water
           can break
   anything

I hope our children remember our sunlight

How caverns
glow wonders even 
in the dark
and mountains heavy with snow
         stir wonderland play

How oceans carve islands
    of meditative oases
and water 
caresses
   whispering honey lullabies

We dig through the rubble

dive in turbulent seas
to unearth 
our peace

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“Several years after my husband served as an Army combat medic, we were navigating the worst of his war traumas and the deepest rifts in our marriage. Our children were toddlers at the time and I hope they will remember the joy as well as the pain, know that we can get through anything together, and that we learn from our suffering and grow stronger.” —Sarah Flores

Sarah Flores is a NASA engineer, street artist, and mother. She delights in supporting airborne science missions and raising kids with her husband—an Iraq War veteran. When she’s not covering the ground with portraits at chalk festivals, you can find her delving into writing and poetry that explore social issues, being a caregiver, and her family’s healing journeys after war. She has published in The War Horse and Altadena Poetry Review, lives in Southern California, and you can find her artwork on instagram @chalkfestchica.