Broken Blooms

Broken blooms, please don’t cry,

This stormy wind will soon pass by,

And in your hearts, you must decide

If blooming’s worth the pain.

Broken blooms, your value holds,

Even when life’s loss unfolds;

Though trouble’s tragic wearing scolds,

Your worth is your refrain.

A Beauty of The Daring

You lay there,

smashed into obscurity,

deluged with all that a stormy heaven could hurl.

Yet you don’t drown in your sorrows

or address invitations to a well-deserved pity-party.

Instead,

you lie where you’ve fallen,

a pummelled version of your famed beauty,

and you bloom.

Bloom!

How dare you?

What makes you think you can stake your claim to beauty

down there in the dirt?

Why do you answer with this slow smile,

this peaceful glow on cherubic cheeks?

What do you have that

I don’t,

that yours is a beauty of

the daring?

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“For I hold you by your right hand – I, the Lord your God.  And I say to you, Don’t be afraid, for I am here to help you.”  Isaiah 41:13