a cut flower

A sunflower personified as a human.

Physically my head rests on a lean and flawless body. I am feeling steady and stable being firmly secured to the ground on which I live. As wind rushes past me bee’s follow along and unfasten my scent as they kiss me and drain the love out of me. By body hunches over and I wonder why this wind makes me so weak. The bee’s make be weak to make me grow strong and beautiful. I tell the Wind as my friend of this manifestation. I’m beautiful and sick at the same time. I’m now more in the sick than beautiful stage are am yearning for Rain. You can be brutal and hurt my friend, I just want to get well. Bring on the cold and the hurting nutrition I so desire to keep me alive and repair myself. It can be mean and angry but I know once it drenches me and I sleep it off when the sun goes down, that Dew will cover me and make me feel all warm and cozy.

In the morning I ask myself, who is taking care of the sweet stable earth beneath my feet? Who is she? She is taller than the other flowers. She is in the sky with the birds. She is not a flower like me.  This animal kneels to me. The sun sends them down to help us grow. The sun, our God, helps us grow. But with growth, there is death that I have so unfortunately seen. Colors were lost, petals took their last breaths of noting and dried up. Their whole head dropped dead and left the sky to the ground below.

She takes care of my slender flawless body. Yesterday I was ok. Then a flash of light. Sharper then frost, it cut me. I collapsed then was lifted. Have I died and now going to heaven? I’ve seen death but not in this direction. Up. I am waist deep in rain. Am I six feet under? My face feels dry and tense. Am I shriveling up? My beauty leaks into the jar one drip at a time. I thought from my tenseness that my colors would be dry. Where are the bee’s that make me stronger? Am I about to die? Is this the cycle of life?