Flowers brighten a prison yard,
where they bloom they cannot know
their riotous beauty quite unmarred
by the truths of where they grow.

Tiny sparrows sit on a razor wire
uncaring as to where they rest.
They see only a handy perch
on the way back to the nest.

In a steel and stone environment
Mother Nature does her dance.
Even a grey and gloomy prison yard,
her miracles can enhance.

Adapting, changing, evolving
ever striving to be more,
pushing fragile tendrils sunward
above the prison floor.

Up out of the loathsome ashes,
like a Phoenix of ancient tale,
work and spirit can achieve
and mortal flesh prevail.

Precious diamonds come from coal,
a rather unattractive sight,
which pressure, heat and time transform
to jewels of wondrous light.

And so hardship and adversity
can transform a person's soul
material much more precious
than lowly, rough, black coal.


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