She loves it when the redbuds bloom.
Outside the window, far as she could see, was a line of cold, leafless trees.
One was always the first to bloom, telling her the others will awaken soon.
She loves it when the redbuds bloom.
It reminds her that the darkness did not take her;
and hard as he tried, the winter did not break her.
Pulling herself from her cold, long sleep took all the strength that she could muster.
And in doing so, gives off a purple luster;
in a big flash of courage, like the last labor of every mother.
Soon, she would look just like the others.
You wouldn’t know if you just look, the kind of courage that it took
to break free instead of giving in,
to that cold dark sleep she’d been living in.
To the sky her branches sweeping, reminding her she was not dead; she was only sleeping.
~Melissa Verde
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