the flower that blooms in winter
Someone asked me today,
if I had another chance at life,
how would I choose to live it?
I told them I’d want to be this flower that hangs its head low
And still grows up.
They must never have heard of such a flower–
They looked at me crazy.
I said,
“If you find my seeds,
Plant me in the fall
So I can endure the winter frost.
I don’t want to be coddled.
If I am always given rain and sun,
I will always expect more.
If I become selfish in this garden
Of milk and honey,
I will lose my peace to find fulfillment,
And return empty.
But winter shall bring me back to Earth.
And in doing so,
I will see that even the harshest moments in life
Can be the most precious.
I will thank the season for teaching me how to live
Through every bit of hurt,
And still urging me to imagine the flickers of warmth
At the base of my stem,
When my roots are numb.
And once I’ve bloomed,
You will see me with my head hanging low.
Know this is not in vain,
But in reflection of the struggles
That allowed my body to withstand such pain.
I will humbly agree to live gratefully,
And ask very slight,
For the greatest gift winter would’ve given me,
Is a lesson we call life.”
