This flower was thrown into a blizzard. She wilted for a while, wondering if she would eventually fade into nothingness. But, just as she was beginning to fall to join the dirt beneath her, the clouds parted long enough for the Sun to peak through and melt the ice that encapsulated her.
As the water dripped off her stem and leaves, she realized how naked she was, her reflection bare in the pond beside her. No longer were there petals adorning her brow, for they had fallen with the unfortunate freeze. She cried, pained at the loss and wondered how she would continue on. The Sun, again, crept out from behind the clouds to shine upon her. With the rays, came a warmth inside of her, urging her to keep believing that one day she would be whole again.
She waited, enduring storm after storm, always hoping that the last one was the last one. It has been a while since a storm raged through these parts, but she fears to look into the pond, to see if her reflection has changed or if it still remains unadorned. What if the petals are still not there? Is the hope just a lie she tells herself in order to endure another night?
Yet, she looked, in all timidity and uncertainty, she opened her eyes to see that her blossoms were beginning to bubble. Through the storms, the heartache, the cold days and the seemingly never-ending nights, they were blooming the whole time. In the midst of heartache, she began to bloom again.
Before she knows it, she will be shining once more, standing tall and strong for all to see. For, the Sun has warmed her, kept her from falling over and healed her of her misery.
She now stands straight, not yet whole, but knowing totality is coming soon. She does not fear the night, for no longer can it make her freeze. She does not fear the snow, nor the rain, for she knows she can endure both. Before her are days far different than those of her past. She waits, patiently and sometimes not so, to be whole, from stem to petal. But, even now, not completely complete, she does not fear her image, for she does not see herself as she is, but rather how she will be, who the Sun promises her she will develop into. She will one day be all the Sun assures her to be, so she waits, and she stands, for that day to come to pass.
Thank you, Sun, for saving this flower.
A Woman Standing 