From a seedling, powered by the freshest waves of grief is born a plant.
It matures, weak and frail,
watered by a fresh and constant flooding of tears.
Through the stages of pain it draws strength from its teenage years to adulthood.
New buds grow from the center,
nurtured in a soil fertilized by the natural cycle of sorrows.
The outer leaves fade and die off.
A sadness matured.
Not as raw as the first hit but something that still smarts.
They crinkle and shrivel up,
feeding into the ground.
Fertilizer.
Lessons learned and a base point for new growth and maturity.
Every loss, a new flower,
springing up and spreading like wildfire.
A field born equal parts beautiful and sad.
A representation of life so fleeting in a shower of loss eternal.
And we push on.
Scattering seeds for our garden of ever-blooms.
Caia Rose 