I wanna share something with you. I wrote a poem that's been floating around in my head for more than a year and I'm looking for feedback now. Tell me what you think and feel. Maybe you know this experience too.
Wildflowers
You see her. You want her.
She is so beautiful, so wild and delicate at the same time, so colourful.
She is something very special. She’s unique - and you must have her implicitly!
You can’t resist the urge to pick her.
You rip her out of the soil or break her stalk.
One leaf she has lost already in the action.
You hold her tight with that you can’t lose her.
You almost overwhelm her withal.
You bring her into your home where she hardly fits.
She should beautify your home and bring you joy.
You put her in a jar from which you mean: “She is looking even better in that.”
But the jar doesn’t fit.
On the same day she hangs her head.
You give her water to survive. But that’s just a drop on a hot stone.
She tries very hard to bring you joy, she keeps her composure,
tries to continue to shine, but it takes her to much strength.
After few days, their blossoms wither and their colors fade.
She loses her beauty. She’s nothing special anymore.
You ignore her now because she has lost her uniqueness.
She dies in your jar and you just shrug with the shoulders.
Or you get angry because the wildflower is no longer what she used to be.
You don’t understand why she changed like that.
You wanted her. You had her too.
As long as she could hold out - for you.
Now she is dead and the jar in your home is empty again.
You will go pick another wildflower again that you like.
And you will wonder again why she dies after a while
- in your jar, in your home.
You will never understand: once you pick wildflowers, they aren’t wildflowers anymore!
09 Jun 2022, 10:25 am
