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Flowers Who Change

A Poem

I remember you walking in my garden for the very first time. It was a Sunday afternoon, five minutes before the sun was to set and you looked at me, you just stopped and looked at me. You grabbed my hand and studied me like you were amazed... you told me you were drawn to the way my petals had grown and said you’d never seen a flower so well and colorful.

I laughed in gratitude and shrugged my shoulders and began to ask what you were looking for. When I asked what you were looking for you told me you were in search for a new home. You were in search for someplace warm, somewhere where you could lay in the sun all day and just grow... and I understood what you wanted.

My home was very much so and growing was all I ever seemed to do. You told me how you once lived in a garden, unnourished, somewhere cold, and a little dreary... you even told me about all the other flowers you used to reside with and how they were selfish and cruel. You told me all your stories about how they tore you down and how they made you become brittle and dejected so I looked down, I looked down and decided I’d uproot myself. My home was warm, fertile, and stable and I loved it. It was mine... but seeing you with such a damaged frame made me frown, so I began to dig. I dug and dug at my roots until I couldn’t dig anymore.

I gave you the one thing that kept me growing, but I didn’t mind because you needed it more than I did. I dug so viscously that at one point I cut my own roots. I didn’t second guess it though. The small wound didn’t bother me so I just continued to dig.

When I finished digging I helped you plant yourself, I helped you adjust, I threw down fertilizer for you, and I even made sure I watered you daily.

I remember you, I do because I was so startled by the idea that anyone in their right mind would drag you down... yes you were brittle and yes you were unnourished, but I knew what kind of flower you were... I knew how beautiful you truly were when well taken care of. I knew how strong you could be when placed in a loving garden so I spent months after months nursing you back to health, not paying mind to my own but all to you.

You went out on your daily walk and when you came back each day you told me how beautiful the garden you visited that day was. I nodded in agreement... but one day you looked at me and said you decided you wanted to plant me close to home. You said the place we lived was no longer warm so I looked down... and I begin to dig.

The cuts & scrapes began to add up but I still paid no mind. We weren’t the bigger picture anymore you were... I noticed you got cut & bruised along the way as well so I began to heal your wounds, I cleaned them twice a day and bandaged them consistently. I was reluctant to leaving but planting you so close to me had meant are roots were tangled so I had no choice. I dug and dug and I planted myself right where you wanted me... I watered you and I kept you clean but I was becoming frail.

When we got to this home you spoke of, I noticed you still went looking at the other gardens like you were still in search of something... but I was right there... right there with you, in this home you so loved, so what could you be looking for?

The seasons began to change and our roots began to unknot. It didn’t bring me pleasure, but I knew this wasn’t the environment I was supposed to be planted in so I let it happen  I let our roots untangle and I moved back home, I watered myself, and began to bandage my own wounds, but this time I was more alive.

My colors began to show again and I realized why you took such interest in my petals. I was, I was a strong flower, and you admired the way I changed colors throughout the seasons. I know why now, I know why you still went looking at all those gardens, and it’s okay. I’m just pleased to say this is all in the past. I’m glad I got you back on your own two feet. I stopped studying other flowers and began to study myself. My roots became the heart of me and I no longer wear those bandages, my roots are stronger than ever and my home is the warmest it’s ever been.

—Marisela Williams

Read next: Some Nights
Marisela Williams
Marisela Williams

Hello !! My names Marisela , I’m 17 years old. I’m from Nc  and I’m just trying to expose some of my writing I hope to create a career for myself in writing and I just figured you have to start somewhere !! 

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Flowers Who Change
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Some Nights