Poetry

Even the Brightest Flower

what happens when

you get thrown

into nothing?

spread out arms

wide to no one?

people move on,

but not you. . .

expanse of heartache,

a cliff for a timeline,

free fall of lost things,

you by a thread.

so, walk to the edge!

but go down softly

with hope,

without breaking

your bones.

sink yourself

into the ground.

way up there

on that precipice

flowers can grow

on cliffs–

the Edge is not

the End.


you can’t command

the sun and rain

or bloom all by yourself.

darkness, silence.

longer, louder.

chaotic stillness.

feeling it all,

all feeling numb.

but I promise

you chose

the way down

that is hope.

so,

hold fast.

hold tight.

wait.

impossible hours,

tangled up days,

six feet below?

no.

this is you

growing

roots.


how glorious the sun feels,

and it was always there.

and so were you

but underground.

the work of roots

and waiting.

all along, life.

but even the brightest flower

can’t force sunshine

on its skin

before its blooming

season.

-S.V.F.

One thought on “Even the Brightest Flower

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