I will bloom.

I will rise

I will blossom

I will bloom.


But for right now,

I will take root.


Pushing through the mud and soil,

Anointed with the sacred oil

Of winters melted snow and dew

I was buried,

and then

I grew.


Death is bitter

And it's sweet

To know that hibernation

Is not defeat.

There is a time to thrive

But often, first,

We must die.


I hit the ground

--cold, unrelenting tomb.

But, what I thought was a grave

Became for me,

A womb.


A place to be nourished,

To rest,

To be still.


I WILL rise,

I WILL blossom,

I will BLOOM.



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