A rose.
Strong, vibrant, centered, open, fully bloomed, receiving the eyes and attention of others, absorbing the morning dews as new ideas of a created world ready to be discovered.
Beside this vibrant bloom are closed buds, ready to be understood, heard, and seen. But ultimately, we know that there are the blooms long gone, brittle stems of what used to be. And all of these guarded by a stem, with thorns, that transcend life itself, holding the fragile together, a friend.
But the ROOT is what I do not show. The source, the life, the breath from which it all flows. This is me. I am in the soil. The flower is my life, my voice, my mind… may it grow for others to be empowered to rise from their own place from the Earth and live.
Original Poem: James Tippins May 2023
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