I will rise
I will blossom
I will bloom.
But for right now,
I will take root.
Pushing through the mud and soil,
Anointed with the sacred oil
Of winters melted snow and dew
I was buried,
and then
I grew.
Death is bitter
And it's sweet
To know that hibernation
Is not defeat.
There is a time to thrive
But often, first,
We must die.
I hit the ground
--cold, unrelenting tomb.
But, what I thought was a grave
Became for me,
A womb.
A place to be nourished,
To rest,
To be still.
I WILL rise,
I WILL blossom,
I will BLOOM.
Comments