Anaya White, Sophomore, Pre-business Major, Creative Writing Minor, Fort Worth, Texas
I’m ill with an aching and desperate desire
to be so much more than I am.
My stem could be longer
My roots could be stronger
My flowers, a much deeper red.
They picked me apart like the petals on roses
and told me they did it for love.
My birth was a blunder
My wits were a wonder
My fate, to be forced on display.
Instead of a vase I was placed in a case,
two-way mirrors for walls and no doors.
I sat still on a shelf
I could only see myself
I could only hear their words
I could only sense the worst
Only wilting set me free
As I died, I planted seeds
So much growth was in the rain
So much growth derived from pain
But today I’m blessed with clarity.
Reborn and re-blossomed, I have a new vision,
new rhythms, intentions, and creeds.
I bask in the rays
I dance and I sway
I simply leave my petals be.
I am.