Allison Kinzy | + Follow Poet |
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To Live Is To Die, To Die Is To Live: Opening

When she opened,
her pollen seeped out and dripped down her stem.
Her petals were stained and warped,
her color uneven
and even her thorns were turned inwards.
But she was dying,
from the moment she opened she was dying.
She died as flowers do –
slowly.
If you have ever watched a flower die,
you would know this.
Their petals droop, turn dry and curl up towards themselves,
their heads sag,
their leaves fall off
and their stalks shrink in the direction of the earth.
She was no different.
But as this process occurred in her fragile body,
there was,
at the point where this particular flower met the rest of the plant,
something brewing.
Just the spark of an idea,
of a beginning,
a new beginning,
was starting to form.
This spark was sent up to where this flower
was slowly but steadily disintegrating.
When the deformed petals had all fallen off,
one by one,
when even the strings that had held the pollen
for the bees
had crumbled to dust,
when nothing was left but the head,
the furry base,
the core,
only then did the spark turn into something more concrete.
This something had drawn a new stalk up the inside of the old one,
and it was beginning to be more than a thought now.
It bulged out,
crowding a multitude of petals under tough green skin,
laying the foundation for more, new, beautiful leaves.
When finally the core of the old, failing flower
fell to the ground,
this bud burst forth,
springing out,
ready to show the world the colors and design
it had worked so hard on all those months, years,
it had waited in the seed to be born.
It grew slowly,
just as the previous flower had died slowly,
but it grew thorns the right way out,
forming its natural protective barrier,
and its leaves were bright green and faced up, towards the sun,
to catch its rays and give nourishment to itself.
Best of all, though,
was this new, young, slowly but steadily growing flower’s petals.
The design was intricate,
and the colors were brilliant and spellbinding.
And this flower swayed in the soft breeze that had sprung up,
knowing that one day she would die too…
and that was alright.

Copyright © Allison Kinzy | Year Posted 2007

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