Flores Amarillas

It started when I was a kid.

I couldn’t have been more than 4 years old.

I remember sitting in front of the TV watching Floricienta.

The colorful Converse, and vibrant tulle skirts.

A poor girl working for a rich family.

A typical Cinderella storyline.

But she looked like me.

She came from the same type of family as mine.

A poor family.

Yet she was rich.

Rich and abundant in love.

Rich and abundant in joy.

Genuine.

Humble.

Her spirit ran free; it knew no limits.

Unconditional love radiated from her smile.

Yellow flowers bloomed with every step they took.

I read inbetween the lines:

It’s possible.

It’s possible for someone like me to love, and

Be loved.

It’s possible.

It’s possible for someone like me to dream big, and

Look beyond.

It’s possible.

It’s possible for someone like me to be.

Yellow flowers bloomed with every step they took.

Maybe that’s where it started.

The vision in my mind of blue skies, and laughter.

The craving of my heart for poppy fields and monarchs.

The hunger of my spirit to liberate and heal.

Yellow flowers bloomed with every step they took.

It’s not that I forgot,

but as I grew there always seemed to be something in the way.

The yellow roses withered.

Their scattered petals lined the path of a dying dream.

I watched as I laid concrete where yellow roses once bloomed.

My heart grew heavy, and hostile; a stranger to gentility.

My mind became cluttered with everything I needed to survive.

But my spirit--

My spirit never waned.

On one hand, it held a candle with an eternal flame.

On the other, a yellow rose.

A gentle reminder:

No matter how dark,

No matter how deep.

No matter how far,

No matter how steep.

Let me carry you,

When it’s too heavy.

Let me guide you,

When you can’t see the way.

Let me hold you.

When most feel like running.

And let me love you,

All the time, every day.

Yellow flowers bloomed with every step they took.