Bloom

I've never questioned my place among the trees.

Though their branches smothered me, 

And wide, greedy leaves drank rays meant for me, 

I called it shade. 

Since wisdom dictates a sapling is nourished by the vine,

And love is what a parent does:

I must be scared of rain. 

And heat, and light, I reason, would wound me. 

My family, in their grace, protects. 

So why then, now that Winter's come, 

And my shriveled branches fade, do I feel no saplings budding? 

I feel only grateful spite, and hate.

Reviews

[Ciara]

The way I read and relate is that we fear love, that love which we need to blossom. And if we never embrace it we never thrive.