With each day of this week,
With each week of this month,
I have grown.
Now strongly rooted.
For I did not know this strength.
I could say I shouldn’t have to know this strength.

With each month of this year, I shall bloom.
More beautiful than ever.
Through all those wildfires and all those storms, I learned to hold my own.

“I did this for you” she said, I step back.
I inspect her branches.
She’s burnt.

“Never doubt me again”
It’s aggressive.
Her tears I cannot catch.
Her anger I cannot grasp.
She’s not coming back from this takedown.
No rebirth.

I shake off my guilt, I’m leaving this greenhouse.