The girl who grew flowers

The land was as barren as she

Bleak, unyielding, cold.

She began to write and to rake.

To dig

In the soil; in her heart

Through the layers of old

Stones, hurts, revenge and pain

Weeds and thorns

Contempt and scorn

Spiders scurried, ants bit.

Her hands, her soul

Scraped, bleeding and sore.

In a carthasis of anger

She hurled seeds.

Like her words

They were insignificant specks

In a vast unknown.

Tiny promises in a shell

Became the blaze of colour

That blinded her eyes, one morning

And as she sat in the caress of

Her unforseen masterpiece

Perfumed perfection and nectared beauty

Her flowers, her bouquet, her words

The petals around her heart unfurled

And blossomed in a garden of hope.