Bleeding Heart

After the hyacinths and the tulips have begun to wilt

Tiny tree blossoms scattered like snow across the grass,

An elegant bush unassumingly draws attention

With wispy leaves and strings of magenta flowers

Shaped like intricate, seeping hearts.

Even in our most noble efforts to remain optimistic

There are days when our souls must fall apart,

Just like these resonant bleeding hearts,

Having suppressed and managed the aching

Until at long last it brims over the edge of our safeguarding,

Spilling out in a rush of grief and tears.

We are allowed to feel the weight of our losses,

To wince from the sting of unwanted change,

Letting our tears to wash over the unhealed spaces

To make room for new seeds of hope to be planted.

These exquisitely melancholy flowers teach us

That there is purpose for the brokenhearted,

Validation to the pain we stoically hide away

Reminding us that in a world of tulips and roses

There are bleeding hearts too, just as beautiful,

Like a familiar and empathetic embrace.

Published by Quietest Poet

Writer, mother, counselor, flower gardener, recipe seeker, and Netflix lover.

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