Underneath The Roses

My entire life, every time I reached for the sky, I was pricked by a barren angry thorn bush. Blood dripped down my fingertips as I fought it and lined my sienna skin red. When hope told me it was time to be still, I laid beneath the thorns. I studied every shade, every color and every texture of this peculiar and painful thing. The scent of the earth collided with my skin, and my hair connected with the roots of this barren bush and I realized I was not my own. I was part of this pain.  As winter ended, and a new piece of the thorns came to life,  like a miracle, roses as red as the blood drawn from my skin flourished all around me. Envy of others born without thorns bushes faded. As we were each called to rise, I rose with roses, and everyone else stood empty handed, underneath the sky.

Discussion:

This was not a premeditated piece but I love it so much. I will be making it into something larger because I love the concept. The concept is this, if you were given anything you were born with, that seems to hurt you more than help you, you might want to wait it out until spring. Come what may, you know? There are a million things that can “hinder” success, being a woman, being gay, your race, anything that in some way held you back. However, the pain of being rejected, hurt, and abused in any way, has the potential and power to become something wonderful, just give it time.

2 thoughts on “Underneath The Roses

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