Flowers that Stay

Walking through the burnt land, the ashes covering my feet. Looking for something, anything. Or am I looking at all? Why am I even here?  There's nothing around here for me to find. Just ashes and broken-down trees. The land is barren, not even another person around, just me.

 ..Me and a flower..

A flower sitting, growing, right in front of me. Right at my feet. I came so close to stepping on the poor thing. As I saw it, I took a step back and fell to my knees quickly.

I can't find the voice to say anything. All I can think is how? How is this flower still growing so strongly? How did it survive the fires? I would've considered that it had started growing prior and narrowly avoided them, but this flower is a good way into its life. 

The fires took everything, every tree, every house, every home.. It tore families to shreds and tore away our sense of survival. Our gardens, our safety, our community, all gone because of the fires. 

And yet..

A flower, strong and still growing.. 

It gives me a sense of hope. Maybe our community can regrow. Maybe, just maybe, everything can go back to normal. 

It's my new goal to protect this flower until the gardens of the forest regrow. Keep it nourished, safe. I need to keep it alive. Keep it thriving. I can't let this flower go like the rest of our home did. 

Finding this flower, it's like nothing else matters anymore. A bit of light is this dark moment.. life in a land of death. Color when everything is black and white. Hope. 

All this flower is.. is hope. I refuse to let it die; let it go. For a moment, sitting here with the flower, I consider taking it home with me. For a moment, I want to take it away from this barren land of death and pain. 

But I can't. I'll have to settle with daily visits. Taking this flower from where it's been growing would hinder the chances of survival I wish upon it. 

So, I do. I visit as often as I can, offering the flower plant food and water.  Giving it plenty of nutrients. Hoping that soon, it will offer more to the decayed plants around it. Hoping.. letting myself hope.. for just a second.. for just a minute, an hour, a day, a week, that soon the world will grow back again the way I knew it to be. 

Offering so much to the soil around the flower. I hope it likes this. I hope more start growing. 

It's getting to the point where I can visit almost every day. Sometimes, I've found myself falling asleep by it at night. But it's safe and continuing to live. My precious flower. I hope it has a garden of floral friends soon. It still makes no sense to me, how could such a beautiful thing grow in such somber situations? Where did it come from? How did it survive the fires? It wasn't there before, was it? Did someone come to plant it after the fires went down? Did it get protected by surrounding floral? What sacrifices were made the offered up such life?

Who or whatever made the sacrifice for this bit of color, I remember to thank them every visit. I remember to always thank the flower for surviving. I remember to thank the soil for allowing the survival. I remember to thank the sun for providing the flower with warmth and light. Anything, anyone, that I can think of, I thank for this flower. 

I visit as often as I can. I don't let the flower die. I can't let my flower die. It is the color in the darkness the bright flames of the fires brought then left behind in its wake. It is mine. I can't lose it. 

No, no I can't let this go.