All that Remains

Of Farmers and Flowers

Some people are flowers

She said

Some people are trees

Some people are trees that grow flowers and cover themselves in beauty, knowing that what lies beneath is rough bark, and within that, sickly sweet sap. Sticky.

These people are beautiful to look at, and safe to touch. The flower children range from anywhere between thriving in storms, to dying when a petal is fondled just one too many times. Delicate. Beautiful. Dangerous.

Some flower children grow wherever, some cannot stand being anywhere other than one place. Dandelion manes and orchid remains. Fierce and adaptable. Soft and brilliant. What happens if we don't protect these orchid children? Sing them off to sleep.

They're not here now, so I may inquire, what would you do, if you were a flower caught in fire?

My grandma said she remembered when she worked out on her knees, one of eight, unbreakable flock, a child of the weeds. She pulled and planted and grew and changed, underneath the red hot sun, covered in dust and dirt and the grime that colored her hair, sweat glinting off her skin in the heated day, shimmering, shining, bittersweet glitter falling. Nails tough and hands the same, in and out of school, learning English from her peers, indeed, such a prosperous weed.

It wasn't until she made it through, that she realized just what she was, to prosper in such a place, with such a life. She saw many children of gardens, many children, a whole forest, a school.

She was a teacher, with the care to help others.

She was a dreamer, from farmer to teacher.

And so she taught. All the kids that were children of the city, children of the land, children of the wind and sea, changing, morphing, thriving, dying.

See them? All the flower children? They give too much. An unending love, they never let go. They are beautiful, they are so full, full of too much. Too much love, too much beauty, so they sometimes open themselves to release some of their beauty, give more to the world, even if they have not enough to spare. They want to hate, they really do, but they cannot bring themselves to. They love and learn and give. Give give give, in a world that is far too willing to take take take take take.

Take more than they can give. Selfish world. Selfish people. People who are not selfish enough. Too much give, too much take.