Petals of Pain
A noblewoman
who never sheds scars from fragile eyes,
you won’t hear her inner child cry.
A palette of purple pride hides horrific truths.
We hid behind a small frame, evading the regiment’s reign.
I used to watch you plant us with buds of hope and wonder why
you lived a life starved of chirping joy.
No rays from the serene sun shone upon you to thrive.
Mother, now I’m older and wiser,
I see your petals of pain pulsating in the sky,
losing love in intolerable ways
with no time for glistening goodbyes.
Your kin resided in a tyrannical site,
suddenly slipping silently into the soil.
Their deceptive departures make my blood cells boil.
You chose to linger with a taupe tyrant in a haunted house of hell,
never a penchant for letting your children run in the chill of the sangria storm.
For us to prosper, I now understand why you remained.
You never probed for a rescue, redemption, remedy,
or embarked on a journey for an assembly of tulip empathy.
Your wise words were not lost,
but I grieve for the blushing roses you never held.
I thank you for being a suppressed sunflower locked in a cell.
I know you weren’t under a sad spell
but striving for your offspring to bloom
in a world weighed down by harsh seasons.
The question of whether they prevail only devilish time will tell.
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