I know myself to do this thing where I glorify and/or romanticize a hardship I’m going through. I’d say it’s not intentional, but that wouldn’t be completely true. I think of my struggles as badges of honor I hide behind. There’s nothing wrong with hiding, but it’s hard to grow without light. I forget that sometimes. I was never meant to grow in a box. Never meant to be a pretty flower blooming in someone else’s garden. I belong along a hillside, or in a forest. Somewhere I can live and die and be given back to the earth only to start anew the following spring. If only.

I often am plucked from the earth by passers by and thrown away once my purpose has been fulfilled. I am your temporary reminder of a place so beautiful, your memory alone wasn’t enough. No more.

This time around, I ask that you frame my dried pressed petals and place me by your altar. Make me everlasting.

There’s so much more to me than what you take. Let me show you.