Magnolia (The Rain Stops)

Beauty comes when the rain stops,

so that the flowers can bloom.

I remember the meadow where I would roam after I was born,

the white and pink still stays in my mind,

a whole field of magnolia tree 

when they sprouted,

the heads were so huge that they almost broke the branches 

and as they bloomed,

my parents lifted me to touch the white sides.

My mother used to tell me that rain wasn't sad,

but it cleaned away everything wrong 

the sun came to bring things back to life,

both would make the flowers grow.

But she shared a secret about the flowers that took time to show, 

these flowers were there most beautiful when they bloomed late.

Because it meant that it took more for them to show,

and even they would last shorter because they came later, they were more beautiful. 

I remember as the red rain ran down my head,

the flowers didn't even change their colors, 

I remember as white flashes came down on all heads,

holding the broken pieces together. 

But as time went on, the crack fused again,

and the colors on the flowers started to fade again, 

the rain came again, and it washed away all the colors from the flowers,

and turned white to red.

It was not all bad, it washed away the dirt,

all the dirt on the petals and all on my hands

I remember the callous hand of my father

Reaching out to cover me.

When the light appeared, we both grew,

and we all came to bloom on our own.

My mother used to tell me about people,

"everyone comes into their own in their own" 

Like all things there is beauty that will fade in and out of time,

and only when the time is right,

on my own I could reach out to smell the yellow magnolia bushes.  

Because on that dark day, they weren't washed away,

they grew the way they could, and now when I go back,

all I can see are purple magnolia leaves rising in the summer breeze

 

This poem is about: 
My family
My community

Comments

Emmanuel55

Great poem, MxCcrea. I really enjoyed the imagery and the command of your language.  The continuity of the garden and the metaphor to life's developments was great. You seemed vulnerable in the piece. You said just the right amount. My favorite line was "everyone comes into their own in their own"

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