(above art by Marcio Melo)
I've tugged at the stem for so long now
The flower begins to wilt
No matter the sun,
the water,
and even the love given
I keep tugging at the stem.
How long before the flower is broken?
When it can not be repaired
Will the wind carry her seeds away
to be grounded,
soiled,
loved,
to grow into more fragmented blooms
created by past splintered petals?
Do I pluck my hand with a thorn
to feel the pain of the tugged stem?
Or do I simply let go
to let it quietly grow
And here I thought I was a gardener.
by melissa rubin
© all rights reserved