sol.ace_r

If I said I had been here from the beginning,
that would be a lie.
I, too, drifted here and arrived.
Whether carried by the wind,
or clinging to the sole of someone’s shoe,
I don’t know the exact path.

All I know is that this place
is somewhere I can stay.

I often leaned.
Toward the sunlight when it felt far away,
away from where water pooled.
I never quite learned how to stand straight;
instead, I grew used to standing up again.

Some never noticed me,
and some did, but likely didn’t remember.
That’s alright.
I was never meant to bloom to be remembered.
I bloom, I wither,
and somewhere in between, I live.

Days when no one gave me a name,
times that passed without ever asking
whether I was doing well.
Within those,
I learned how to bloom
and how to fold myself back.

So let’s not discard the moments
when I wasn’t anything remarkable.
I was still living then, unmistakably.

Like a wildflower.