Flower in my Pocket

In my time of need, words rushed me

Incoherent and strangled words

Fearful and swarming in my mind

So I took them into my hand

And stuffed them into my pocket

They became scattered and sullied

Questioning as they sank further into the darkness

Whispering to create a hum

I hid from their questions 

Ignoring the distant buzz

As if they were just a fly

A bug lost to the wind

But as the day went on

I still heard them, and it stung 

They questioned my honor

They questioned my strength

And I wondered

What would it take to quiet the sounds

Now pulsing in my ears?

The guilt, the strain, the weakness and fear

What does it take to be stronger than I am?

In a thoughless moment

I took out those words

Now like a heavy stone in my pocket

But in seeing the light

The words ceased to disturb

And I had a rose in my grasp

Its thorns brushing my palm

It looked weak, close to death

I realized it had only known darkness 

And I felt as weak as the thing in my hand

The air felt cold

My heart a vulnerable petal

Upon a lilting little flower

The wind whipped and tugged

And I gripped the stem

Blood drawn quick, red as it slipped

My eyes did shift to the light in the distance

A love I had not noticed before

My legs feel strong now

Fighting against the wind

Flower in my bleeding hand

I now have new meaning to stand

And it feels like the sun is coming up again