Monday, October 21, 2013

What blossom are you?

I am not a delicate flower, a rose in the queens gardens
I am not a wilting daisy, nor sunflower mindlessly following the light.
Despite many who compare me to the lotus rising from the mud, I assure all I am not that complex.
 For I am the resourceful chicory.
The rose requires beds tended with care given to soil, I need dirt just a sidewalks crackful.
The lotus is sweet and attached to its humble roots fragile in its existance.  I am one step from the tumbleweed, bittered and battered by the wild strong and spindly
The daisy and sunflower once wild, have been domesticated and made to obey. I break free in the wild, or at the least the fringes of society.  I am regarded as a something to be plucked away and destroyed, eliminated. But I still exist, just when they think they got rid of me I come back.
What they don't see in this wind worn bloom is the power to heal and nurture others despite my twisted appearance.
There are a precious few that know and value what so many view to be a cast off of nature, the simple Chicory.


No comments:

Post a Comment