Blooming

Blooming


Blooming isn't something one often sees
in themselves --a sad truth.
Others do but then we look
beneath the surface.
We see through tired eyes
reddened by grief and loss to the light
that even still hasn't dimmed.
Nay, it shines. He saw that glow,
that ever-blooming flower.
Even a stranger can see it.
No one thinks,Today I'll blossom.
Blooming is a growth, an opening
to possibilities, to tomorrow.
One watches for a tree to blossom,
for a bud to burst into being,
but a person flowers when their heart
is full. Love fills a heart: the loss
of the person they love doesn't empty the heart
like a broken pitcher spilling milk
on the floor. Eyes may leak and flow,
but the heart? The heart keeps
it safe inside. Where it continues
to burst into bloom
at odd, unscheduled moments.
A blooming occurs with each smile,
each fond moment, each purposeful step.

You bloom because you are who you are.
I see it, others do too. You will too
when you believe just a wee bit more.
It'll catch you off guard when you least
expect it and then you'll see
you indeed are a bloom beyond compare.