How striking a contrast
That such hopeful bursts of purple rising up from frosted dirt
Could symbolize sorrow,
Yet it was my heavy heart that saw them first blooming
Weakened in spirit and physical strength
Wondering if I would see the rest of the garden come to life
When life seemed to be leaving me.
Maybe the hyacinths offered a sobering perspective
That our existence is as fleeting as an early spring bloom
A brilliant, colorful burst of meaningful moments
Both sorrowful and endearing, harrowing and delightful
And when the guarantee of summer no longer feels secure
We learn to savor what is, just as it is
The brilliance of purple hyacinths bringing into focus
The precious gift of being alive.
The Therapy of Words 