LOVE Poem: BLOOMING, by Irina Lessne

All along, she poured into cups that weren’t hers
Filling them to the brim until they overflowed with loving kindness
But losing herself in the precious process of building other people up
She plucked daises made of empty promises that she intended to keep tucked away in a jar
The flowers would wilt yet she’d continue to search for more
However, she couldn’t pick enough
Stooping down whenever she saw others in need
Yet letting her crown slip a time or two while bending over to scoop other people’s lives off the
ground
She tiptoed over daises and refused to let other people wilt under the pressure of their world
But it was hard to lift others while her life lay crumpled beneath her feet
It was a beautiful life, but one with splinters and secrets and shame
She often cut her sweaty palms on the edges but patched herself up and continued to ride the
waves of her life
With each papercut came tougher palms, and made from bitterness and beauty and heartbreak
Still, she moved on
She kept up her pace, and continued to pick up others up but learned something along the way
She didn’t have to lose herself while helping others
She didn’t have to swoop down and save everyone she loved
She didn’t have to be the hero in everybody’s story
As long as she continued
To be the hero in her own.
And despite the cuts and scrapes
Despite the bloody palms and blisters that boiled and burned
And despite the overwhelming task of feeling like she need to save others,
She BLOOMED.