A Poem


Recovery is like early spring.

Once dormant and dead,

As the snow melts,

And the sun shines brighter,

A flower pushes its way through the cracks of a sidewalk,

And though it seems frail,

Still the flower endures,

And eventually, thrives.

And so, in the earliest phase of recovery,

One is dormant, a walking skeleton,

Physically frail, mentally hanging on for dear life,

And ever so slowly,

The fire in one’s soul ignites again,

Reaching toward the sun,

Opening up and blossoming;

Like that flower growing through thorns,

Once again standing strong,

In the midst of adversity,

Persisting, never giving up.

nature poetry
How does it work?
Read next: I Am A Bullet.
Carrielee Crenshaw

I’m from Atlanta. I’m a feminist, a proud lesbian woman, a mental health and chronic illness warrior, tattoo/piercing, music and YouTube junkie. I love writing poetry & narratives on women’s/LGBTQ and mental health & pop culture.

See all posts by Carrielee Crenshaw