I Will Always Be a Wildflower
I always thought myself
to be a wildflower
with the warm summer breeze
as the sunlight gently kisses my face.
A passerby stopped to admire my beauty
and as he plucked me
from my ever-expansive meadow,
I was grateful
he chose me
out of all the other flowers.
He placed me in an exquisite vase,
atop a dining table grand and pristine.
I was the center of his home and
I was grateful
to be surrounded
by so many fine possessions.
I could no longer feel the wind
dancing across my bare, green flesh
he would open a window
allowing the warm air
to ruffle through my soft petals.
In that moment
I felt free.
The light of the sun had faded
but I felt a familiarity
in the sky-blue shade of his eyes
that gave me hope
when he stopped to once again
admire my beauty.
I stretched myself to set roots
but soon discovered
no earth to be found
at the base of my elaborate crystal vase.
My growth had been severed
and I was drowning
in murky, stagnant waters,
void of any change.
The color of my soul began to fade
and the softness of my petals
began to wilt and wither,
I longed for the meadow-
alive with possibility
and endless skies.
I felt myself shrinking, splitting-
my beauty decomposing and uniting
with the waters of uncertainty beneath me.
With eyes void of the admiration
he once granted,
I met his gaze one last time.
And in an act of righteousness
he removed me from the exquisite vase,
cascading my fragile body
across a ground of cold reality.
As I lay contemplating my dire state,
the sun began to rise
and once again-
I felt her warmth upon my face.
I was hardened
as the heat began to dry my flesh.
And then the breeze returned-
with a rush of intensity
it thrust the remaining pieces of my being
into the atmosphere,
carrying me within its soul
and gently releasing me
back to my beloved meadow.
I let go.
As my flesh returned to the soil
showers of clarity fell from the sky,
softening my hardened skin
and cleansing me
of what could no longer remain.
New life emerged from the earth.
I grew taller.
I grew stronger.
The next passerby did not stop
to admire my beauty,
but rather the beauty
in allowing things to be.
That is freedom,
and I will always be a wildflower.
*This piece was originally published on Elephant Journal. To view the original post click below (and signup, the Elephant is awesome!)