Wildflowers

Even without the sanctuary of a garden, summer comes, and wildflowers bloom anew.

Upon the edges of the earth, you will

not find them here- where thorns and thistle reign

the land untamed, and morning brings no warmth

or certainty.

                           The hours linger on,

every second heavy with the weight of

time still passing by- ever met by doubt

that life could somehow thrive in such a place-

and yet it’s you that sees the truest shades

of green, who knows the soil and calls the trees

by name; with seeds not planted in a line

but scattered by the wind, they find their place

in riverbeds and forests where but you

could take up root.

                                     How easy must it be

to blossom with the roses, tended to

by caring hands and welcomed in their place,

plucked free of weeds and every pest removed-

they grow up into gardens, but you are

wildflowers bursting from the earth, with blooms that

paint the summer fields in colors whispered

of some many moons agone; long dreamt of

by the artists and the poets, and known

to very few who see beyond the veil.

But ever onward rolls the wheel of time,

and all are subject to the hands of fate

that turn the seasons yet ahead- the chill

of winter looms with certitude, and with

it brings the bitter loneliness that comes

when all eyes turn away. As with all things,

you too will start to wither, until you

return back to your roots and sink below

the earth, then all at once the land grows cold,

while you’re left here alone, to be                             forgotten.

                                                                      So

much heavier, the burdens that you bear,

and so much brighter still you somehow shine.

The fields lay bare, the skies a quiet gray

as all the world sleeps dormant underneath;

though you are buried deep, you are not lost.

I promise, soon the sun will rise again.

Author's Note

This poem was written for a very close friend of mine during a period of time where she was struggling to recognize her self worth. I hope it also speaks to you, as a reminder of the wildflowers inside of you.