Jun 2012
I walked alone
On a dark stretch of imperfection
The road was pointless
Stumbling marked my hesitation
I found courage, tried to run
But darkness cloaked the air
And twisted vines mocked my despair
Dropping to my knees
I wished for strength to fight the night
And clear the wood, to reach the light
The prayer I spoke
Was little more than just a breath
But there it was,
An answer on my quest
It stood alone, the orchid,
Fragile beauty wrapped in might
And seemed to glow from inner light
I gasped and smiled
As through the darkened mist it shone
Its unique purpose before unknown
The bloom was there, placed perfectly,
And because of this bloom
I remembered me
Its beauty, both intricate and fair,
Reminded me of what I usually fail to see
That we are magnificently created things
I continued on that day
To purpose which had seemed so far away
But the path was not as gray
The orchid lit my way
Copyright 2006 Jennifer Wagner
On a dark stretch of imperfection
The road was pointless
Stumbling marked my hesitation
I found courage, tried to run
But darkness cloaked the air
And twisted vines mocked my despair
Dropping to my knees
I wished for strength to fight the night
And clear the wood, to reach the light
The prayer I spoke
Was little more than just a breath
But there it was,
An answer on my quest
It stood alone, the orchid,
Fragile beauty wrapped in might
And seemed to glow from inner light
I gasped and smiled
As through the darkened mist it shone
Its unique purpose before unknown
The bloom was there, placed perfectly,
And because of this bloom
I remembered me
Its beauty, both intricate and fair,
Reminded me of what I usually fail to see
That we are magnificently created things
I continued on that day
To purpose which had seemed so far away
But the path was not as gray
The orchid lit my way
Copyright 2006 Jennifer Wagner
This is a poem from my blog www.poetlaundry.com.
Bullying is a newsworthy subject these days. We’ve all seen it; some of us have even participated in it. My son recently began to be the recipient of some ugly bullying behavior at school. Undeniably, it is one of the most heart-breaking things to watch your kid go through. To have that once-tiny, bundle-of-cute you would die for come home sobbing after you have sent him out into the world of his peers is well, hell. Or something like it. Differences aren’t often tolerated, and the messages that life can serve (you’re too fat, not smart, not athletic, not good at anything, or just plain not good enough) warp us until we believe them. But they are not correct. We are valuable. We have purpose. I had written this poem a few years ago when I was wrestling with my own thoughts on this issue, and it came to mind as I have been traversing some rough waters with my son. Have you ever taken a good long look at an orchid? It’s a masterpiece of artistry isn’t it? But it doesn’t look like a daisy and it doesn’t smell like a rose and it doesn’t grow like a sunflower. It is different. It is its own unique work of art. And so is he. And so are you.
Bullying is a newsworthy subject these days. We’ve all seen it; some of us have even participated in it. My son recently began to be the recipient of some ugly bullying behavior at school. Undeniably, it is one of the most heart-breaking things to watch your kid go through. To have that once-tiny, bundle-of-cute you would die for come home sobbing after you have sent him out into the world of his peers is well, hell. Or something like it. Differences aren’t often tolerated, and the messages that life can serve (you’re too fat, not smart, not athletic, not good at anything, or just plain not good enough) warp us until we believe them. But they are not correct. We are valuable. We have purpose. I had written this poem a few years ago when I was wrestling with my own thoughts on this issue, and it came to mind as I have been traversing some rough waters with my son. Have you ever taken a good long look at an orchid? It’s a masterpiece of artistry isn’t it? But it doesn’t look like a daisy and it doesn’t smell like a rose and it doesn’t grow like a sunflower. It is different. It is its own unique work of art. And so is he. And so are you.
