Blooming Therapists


 

I begged the hydrangea 
to live for me, to rainbow
the barren garden staring
through my library window.

Their umbrella clusters 
heard me as they opened
their petals to hold drops
of summer rain. 

They were bright blooming therapists
that I could sit with in my vanity,
heart’s yearning, and apologies.

Resilient to survive my lack of green thumb
they teased my darkness toward light.
My spirit so long a starless night grew
brighter with glitter and moon.
 
Now my garden is vases of dried bouquets.
Their vintage faces aged into wisdom
still teaching me to weed my spirit
of thoughts that weaken my own resilience. 

I once begged a flower to live, but it was I
who needed the shaman petals 
to guide me on how to thrive.  

©Susie Clevenger 2024

What's Going On? ~ Say It With Flowers

Comments

Mary said…
I like the idea of thinking of flowers as therapists. Surrounding oneself with beauty sometimes helps. And what is more beautiful!
Susan said…
I agree with Mary. I think flowers are a good gift (weather cut or planted) for people sad, sick, and feeling crazy, for the very reason you give in your poem, they are life giving. I like the curve of your poem from prayer to conclusion. Bravo!
Sherry Blue Sky said…
I love this! I very occasionally treat myself to flowers and they make me absurdly happy. A wonderful poem.
Rajani said…
blooming therapists - perfect! I bring tuberoses and lilies sometimes and they lift my spirit instantly...
Sumana Roy said…
Yes to look at these beauties as blooming therapists is to move towards light. I love their vintage faces of wisdom; their guidance to weed out weak thoughts and help learn to thrive. Beautiful thoughts.
Truedessa said…
I do feel flowers are therapeutic their beauty and aroma seems to calm the soul. The last stanza is powerful.
Dora said…
It's impossible not to feel the power of beauty to lift us into light through your words, of nature as a guide, exemplifying the resilience we so need to thrive.
I love flowers as blooming therapists! Strong last stanza.
Kim M. Russell said…
A beautiful poem, Susie, full of colour, and I too think of flowers as ‘bright blooming therapists’. I sympathise with anyone whose hydrangeas were ‘resilient to survive my lack of green thumb’ and recognise a garden that is ‘vases of dried bouquets’. I especially love the lines:
‘Their vintage faces aged into wisdom
still teaching me to weed my spirit
of thoughts that weaken my own resilience’.