Sunflowers
At the moment,
I'm trying to be less human,
And more sunflower.
Less worry,
Less comparison,
Less drooping,
Less sinking,
Less frowning.
More standing tall,
More face to the sunshine,
More blooming,
More growth,
More smiling.
Be patient with me,
Beautiful things are coming.
...
I rise early, before the sun has woken:
The world is asleep.
It is cool,
And dark,
And quiet.
I begin then.
I start slowly and peacefully,
Not pushing or shoving myself into motion;
Warming up slowly.
You can't force a flower to bloom, but you can give it all it needs to do so.
I become fervent as the sun decides to rise,
If it does at all... sometimes, it rains and storms, and there is no sun to see.
But that's okay, because I don't rely on the sun.
You see, I am the sun. I create the warmth and the life. I am the start, and the end. I am the creator of my own destiny. I am a world, within another world, within a universe. I wait for no one.
...
I sit in a field of other flowers,
Taller and prettier than I.
People walk past all day, every day;
If I'm lucky, I get a glance in my direction.
I watch my flower friends get chosen,
And chosen again and again.
Sometimes, I feel I'm the only flower left in the field.
I begin to doubt my leaves, my face, my petals;
Perhaps I am droopy, or not bright, or not beautiful.
Sometimes, I can't even find a patch of sunlight to bathe in,
To make me feel warm.
I wonder whether I will feel that again.
All I want is someone to pick me;
To take me from this field, home to a place
Where I am looked at with adoration,
Until I take my final breath.
To feed me, nurture me, enjoy me.
I want to know what it feels like
To belong to someone,
And not everyone.
I want to know what it is like
To give someone joy,
Just by existing in their space.
I know I have a home, somewhere that isn't here,
In the form of a person.
I will wait for the day they discover me,
And carry me home in their arms.
....
Sometimes I smile,
Even when I don't mean it, or feel it.
I feel it is my duty
To be constantly happy,
To give people a nice thing to look at.
Sometimes I feel heavy,
And I try so hard to be light:
To not touch the ground,
So I don't hurt anyone around me.
So I don't drag anyone down.
Sometimes I shiver
In the middle of Summer.
Not because it is cold outside,
But because it is cold inside,
In my heart, or my soul.
//
When the Winter comes,
I am both sad, and very relieved:
My season is over.
The days are shorter,
I can disappear into myself,
And keep myself warm.
I get to grow in privacy,
And prepare for when I will show my face again.
I smile when I want to smile,
I can feel what I need to feel,
I can wrap myself up in soil over and over and over again,
Nourishing myself and feeding my soul with warmth and love.
Self-love.
This is a time for myself, and for myself alone.
I give little pieces of myself season after season,
Year after year.
I am done being what people need me to be,
And I am ready to be what I need myself to be.
This is where I truly bloom:
In the off-season.
They say Winter is a withering time;
But all I see is blossoming,
Healing,
Rejuvenating,
Growing,
Changing,
Evolving.
So. excuse me while I hibernate;
I am just growing into a bigger and better bloom.
I am doing this for myself, and for no-one else:
The way it should always be.
