Days pass by, and the petals
fly. In a glorious garden, life
slows down; I can now zero
in on sounds that have yet
to be heard. I look around.
I see vibrant colors and shapes.
Without thought, birds and bees
survey the land. Abundant motion
surrounds a restless soul. I see
trees dance above a strong ground.
Coexisting with each other, all forms
of life carry on with no concern.
Not asking to be born, I learn to ask
how to live a life without keeping
track of all that I lack. I ask flowers
what it feels like to be pulled, planted,
cut, watered, and given away. I pluck
a flower in the midst of April showers,
and I begin pulling petals. One by one,
under the justified sun, I start pulling
petals. “She loves me. She loves me not”.
Asking questions that go unanswered.
After another question, the flower
was naked, missing its petals. Because
of my questioning, the flower’s beauty
is missing. I destroyed something due
to me not believing. I knew that my
doubt washed all the beauty out.
I lay the flower stem on the dirt,
and I realize my questions did
nothing but cause pain and hurt.