Thursday, April 29, 2010

You are more than a sudden overnight of color and song.

These petals are the ending notes of your soulful concerto. The beginning is a symphony of sorrow and struggle few rarely stop to hear.

Next year, with scarf and hat, I will listen to you sooner. I will walk by your gray and naked limbs, with buds shut tight, and resonate with your cries of longing.

To have so much to say and no immediate outlet to say it. For visions of richness, depth, and purpose, to be contained in such a small space and for so long... How is it done without imploding inward? Without burning up? Without giving out? And how is it that the chaos of color beneath winter's armor is only let loose in millimeters, late at night without witness.

You are a rare breed. The books tell of many who have carried this burden before, only with the loss of sanity, family, or morality.

Yet each year you harbor this same,unbearable tightness in your chest and are brought through. Miraculously unscathed, just as innocent, and even more breathtaking.

Oh that this miracle were true in this heart. To trust this paralyzed state is not without meaning. To know that a flower's turn to blossom does not mean that it is mine. And to rejoice in this late night for what it is- an unobserved millimeter.

photo by Georgia B @