We lose slowly-
Bit by bit-
They ache for years-
Adapting to the pain-
But withering nevertheless—

Some petals-
We lose fast-
The brutal storms-
Just rip them off-
Carrying the pieces of our souls-
With them forever—

In both cases-
The joints where those petals-
Were once alive-
Are bruised-
And scarred-

As they may bleed for years-
Too sensitive to lies-
Too numb to truth-
Too insecure about everything at once-
Draining the stem of its reviving juice—

Go in-
Scoop out some healing water-
From a silver cup-
Where forgiveness dwells-
You’ll find it in your centre-
Where are no missing parts—

Pour that liquid full of Light-
And seal with grace-
The open spaces of your pain-
You pour, rinse and heal-
Until new petals will appear-
Anew, afresh, again—

Scoop out, my love, scoop out-
From that healing source-
Where no flower withers-
For under ruins of your heart-
You’ll always find a cup-
Filled with Ocean of Stillness—

© Dalia Lane

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