Once in a golden hour they cast to earth a seed, planted in the darkness with no one there to feed.
To and fro they went tearing at
her form, fragmenting at the edges, leaving her tainted and all torn.
Then she grew so much, she wore a crown of light, fought hard to calm
her demons and often lost the fight
She sow’d it far and wide, her body was her power, a vessel to discard
she thought, till her mind bloomed into a flower.
Read my little fable: he that runs may read, they look upon her wholly now, look beyond the seed.
And some are pretty enough, and some are poor indeed; and some of them I’m telling you… will silently bleed.
Once in a golden hour, they cast to earth a seed, up there grew a flower,
She saw herself a weed.
Karen Hayward ©2018
Inspired by and referenced, by my fave ever poet, The Flower, Alfred Lord Tennyson