Wildflowers

In the chasm of her heart wildflowers grew,

radiant shades of green and blue.

She would water them and give them sun,

for she knew not what she had done.

Sprung up from seeds she herself did not sow,

a garden of joy began to grow.

But soon she noticed, much to her surprise,

that wildflowers didn’t grow in the hearts of the wise.

The wildflowers, she began to see,

took root in her like poisonous weeds.

Though planted by hands that were not her own,

she tightly grasped what in her had grown.

So she began to pull the wildflowers out,

and she tried to bury the voice of doubt.

But once they were gone, within her a hole,

and she realized now, they weren’t weeds, but soul.

[alc]