05/24/2026
The Weight of the Bloom
I am told I am growing,
but right now,
I am only dark dirt.
I don't know the shape of my petals yet—
just how it hurts.
They tell me I will be beautiful,
graceful, and tall;
that I’ll be able to stand
with no help at all.
They tell me I’ll shine
like the sun itself.
But what happens when someone picks me
and puts me on a shelf?
They say I’ll bring smiles all around,
but when the frost hits and the snow falls,
will I just lay on down?
They say I’ll be every color of the rainbow
before I end my life.
But if I have every color...
you’ll still love me, right?
Even the colors born in the dark,
even the shades that bleed and fade,
even the wild, untamed hues
the quiet winter made.
For the rainbow is not a performance,
and the roots do not grow for the shelf.
You will hold every color, sweet daisy,
and learn to love them yourself.
— AwrenRiley