I, Budding Bloom

I, Budding Bloom

Judy Zhao
Media Staff

I plead and prod

For the answers to your hurt.

I wait, which is to say I wilt.

A surge of depleting pain defeats my mood.

Here I am, broken hereafter.


But I am an infinite source

Of love, energy, and virtue.

I always have more to give;

I rebuild and replenish to no acknowledgment 

Except for within.


Rain is my succor— 

Supplying my entangled roots with life. 

I sift and sort through the mess

And eventually, enliven to a fresh free spirit;


Healing is courage.

I leave, and linger in my zeal—

There is so much more for me here.

Now onto the next

As if my intention stood resolved.


I bent in your grasp until I broke—

Shattered once more, mirroring a million 

fragments tarnished, maimed, and lost,

A remnant of the self.


In solitude, I planted,

The lone dandelion wishing to be plucked.

Vision gradually unveils itself in regenerative growth;

There I am, a waiting wish.


Healing is forgiveness.

Now, grazed upon once more—

I am bundled in a heaping pile of promise,

Perfect poppies dressed in a bow.


It’s only a matter of time before they

Burst in a flooding display of fancy while 

Beautifully decaying pansies

Fan my gaping wound.


Battered and bleeding I ache, 

But this time, I am bolstered

With poise and prowess, proud.

In a lovely field I stand,

The weeds uprooted around me—long gone.


I am left to prevail in sanguinity,

In cheerful brightness assured.

Never lacking, but at ease of elation.

I look forward through the breaks and bruises

Right on rhythm, hitting every beat.


Wind blows in a whirling rush,

Light shifts through the wavering clouds

Like an inkling sign of hope;


Healing is gratitude—

This too shall pass.

For I, budding, bloom.