I watch the trees
standing at attention
reaching, palms up
demanding what they’d been promised
defiant
in their new bright green coats
the head of the flower
is a fist
raised to the sky
I stand a bit taller
my spine straightening
like a flower wilting
in reverse
I think of the tree roots
digging firmly into the earth
searching, trusting fingers
gripping one another tightly in the dark
talking to one another without making a sound
something writhes in my chest
trying to get out
a butterfly pushing its wings against its cocoon
urgent, imminent
seeds growing hot and bursting like popcorn
under the sun’s bright glare
to exist
to bloom
in a world such as this
is an act of rebellion in itself
I learn to bend, not break
I breathe, giving myself permission to bloom
starting over once again
