To the rose with tears in her petals.
Who wilts every morning as the suns rays illuminate her wounds
Who’s roots dig deep but were grown too thin to drink in life
Who feels that her disfigured scars make her any less compelling, majestic, ethereal, strong.
For the rose who was made to believe that her own thorns were the cause of her suffering.
You have been lied to.
The tightness that sits within the core of your chest is not meant to have a home within you,
It was planted by weeds disguised as dandelions,
that grow only to strangle you,
from the base of your roots to the top of your stigma.
They gain life,only from witnessing the destruction of yours.
look up and breathe easy
See all that you are and all that you will come to be.
You are not basic
You are classic.
You are not broken,
You are living, growing, evolving
So do not fret over the carvings that adorn your skin, for the sun,
Which you were told,
was ashamed of you,
Loves nothing more than to watch the beautiful shadows created by your being,
dance on the ground beside your feet.
They tell the stories of your journey.
From the pain of your heartaches
To the boundless impact of your love and compassion
The tears in your petals are not brand marks of your inadequacy,
but a map of your soul,
A guide to set yourself free.
Rise aka A Rose by another name
(Photography art by Cao Dien)