Thursday, October 20, 2011

Poem for a scared girl who loves strange flowers.


White-headed dandelion girl, who loves the flowers no one does.
Raised a rosebush, pruned and delicate, you envied the yellow capped weeds.
Born a seed, you were made to grow,
but shoots of weeds sowed themselves upon your soul.
Your long-growing leaves horrified you,
stem strong against your broken will.
As you reached for the sun, you feared others
would loathe you for the shadow you had made.
With trembling leaves you held at bay the gifts
of air, of light, of ground. You kept yourself a seed.
You hid the seed of self and weeds grew round.
Fear sown in fear made space for fear to thrive.
Now you stand on the banks of the Jordan
and wish you were only a reed in the wind.
But you were not made
to hide your shining head
beneath stalks of green and gray.
Grow tall.

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