The wilting does not dismiss your beauty or ability to bloom.
“Yesterday I reached to touch the face of the sun, orange ball stretched across yawning blue. My fingertips melted to wax, oozed into my skin and from then I began to see myself as holy, for I am a golden glory with heaven in my veins. I am a hymn worth humming on Sunday mornings under the wake of the birds and the rhythms of the wind that cradles the world in its palms. I am a prayer of bowed heads uttered under my grandfather’s moon, a journey to dawn of Zion.”
It is common to say that life is never easy because that’s the truth. It isn’t. There are so many hills and valleys. So many sunrises and sunsets, and no matter what, we must learn how to carry on through it all. I find that this is the beautiful thing about life. This is the beautiful thing about humanity. The evidence that we are strong, resilient beings exists beneath our very skin. We’ve got daisies growing in our veins. We carry glory in our bones.
I woke up on this Wednesday morning celebrating 21 years of life. 21 years that haven’t always been easy. 21 years where the sky hasn’t always been bright. My hands have calloused as I’ve tried to pull the blues from these soul. I’ve nestled under the moon, hoping for the morning to come. This river doesn’t always carry calm currents. Sometimes the waters toss and turn, producing unease, disruption. These 21 years have not always been roses and sunshine, but I am thankful for having the chance to exist in this world as the woman that I am.
This morning, I woke up thankful for the years I have carried. I woke up thankful for having the ability to hold the sun. I woke up thankful for my wings, for my freedom to be a child of the horizon. A child who takes flight. A child who stretches the sky.
Every day that I have the chance to rise with breathe flowing through my body, I am assured that I was meant to be a sun. And so even when the skies are grey, I still have the ability to shine. That’s the truth I have been treading in. That’s the truth I have been lifted by. That’s the truth I was meant to hum into the ears of the world. So, I did. On this day, I am a newly self-published author of “To Wilt and Bloom,” which is a poetry book on the topic of growth. The pages are layered with undeniable truths, with words crafted especially for the souls who have wilted and hope to find the strength to bloom again.
And so I want to say, the power is there. You hold the ability to lay roots, to sow seeds and enjoy the harvest of plenty, the harvest which unto you has been promised. The wilting does not dismiss your beauty or your ability to boom. Again. Again. And again. Let the pain sift through your hands. Let the wind thread fresh air through your wounds. Let the sunrays shine down over you. And in this moment, recognize how holy you are.