7/20

blossoming
is frightening
life is loud and quick and strange and I've always thought
of myself as fragile, I didn't expect
to come gasping through the cracks in the concrete -- isn't it neat?
existing, I mean
the breathing, the beating, the sobbing, the singing
but you see,
I didn't really expect

to be here, but here I am, not quite as fragile but still afraid
of this life coursing through my veins, mother nature
have you made a mistake?

because I'm certain
I'm not nearly responsible enough to care for this vessel
you must be terribly trusting of these hands that surely ruin
everything they touch
and haven't I come up with one too many ways
of attempting to destroy the fine threads that hold me into existence, I'm sorry

but let me tell you a secret, when
I feel the gentle caress of raindrops on my skin or the subtle whisper of the morning air, I feel unworthy
and I know I shouldn't
because it must mean something
it must mean something that I'm still here
still breathing, still beating, still sobbing and singing
still fragile and afraid, still
never feeling quite like I belong
but I'm here
just like
the flowers and the weeping willows and fireflies
and all this wonder that inhabits this loud and frightening yet strikingly beautiful universe that cradles me
I'm part of this

still here, despite everything, still
blossoming
like a daffodil, bursting through
the cracks in the concrete
and so are you, through everything
you're here
we're here
and I think that must
mean something