Yellow Flower

In my mother’s womb

From the psyche of the ancestors that birthed me

I spoke the language of my heart

Through a vague dream that would hardly be remembered

I showed her the devastation of the lands

Rot, waste, debris, the grounding force

From which I emerged

A yellow flower

Simple, humble, yet riotous in contrast

To the landscape of death and destruction, befallen

Into shame and submission

And yet, hope had taken root.

Then, young intrepid leaves pushed through

Into the light to begin yet another cycle

Yellow, like the sun

Heralding the beginning of a new, bright day

Like the virgin buds of forsythia as winter greets spring

When one forages for forgiveness in the thawing of the earth

Tender, sweet petals

Vulnerable, delicate - that is my strength

Easily crushed yet formidable in my passing

Yellow, is my skin

With which I identify with the billions of my tribe

Complete with almond eyes that disappear when I laugh too much

When I enjoy too much

From my basket of resources and delights

The modest pleasure, eked out of cabbage, mustard, and heat

Exhaled through my breath

And thus I emerged

Through the treacherous journey from the belly to the breast

My first breath, a miracle, a marvel

My petals, undulating, rhythmic, flow

The light of my parents life, a manifestation to their destiny

A beauty, a reminder beget from the ashes of those things laid asunder

By the separation of man and purpose

Yellow canary

Preceding the dangers that lurk in the shadows in our minds

I will stand guard, willingly, wanting

To warn of the invisible enemy

That seeks to cage your spirit in the comfort of the deceit

Look to me, the hint of yellow in the darkness, in the drought

And I will look to your golden face

As I turn towards the sun