a second poem on resistance

25 Aug

If I stay tight like a bud

On my tormented branches

Despite the kiss of the cleansing rain

And the stroke of the rising sun

A tight bud I will remain.

I will be clenching and grasping

Energy withering

Skin tightening

Structure deteriorating

Colour darkening ...

Would a passerby recognise me

As the bud of potential

The emerging state of a blossoming flower

That delights and dances

In this universe in verse?

Yet if let go of my resistance

If I surrendered to the unknown

Accepted that life changes me

And that life itself cannot be fixed nor changed

No matter the hurt that this might seem to carry...

Perhaps it would be a life of delight over deterioration

My speckled pink wisdom

Flirting with the twinkle in everyone and everything's eye

A sense of grace & "isness" greets my evocative stamen

The sun's illuminosity follows it, to pierce right to my soul.

I remember I am alive, not "not dead"

I remember my power of helping people see their own beauty

I remember my lightness as I float to the unexpectant sand

I remember the tenderness as I'm scooped up & marveled at

I remember, I remember, will you remember?

6 | Altitudinal Perspectives