We are blooming,
Not because the soil was kind,
But because we stayed
Even when the dark
Wrapped itself around our roots.
We are blooming
Through the ache of yesterday,
Through our cracked voices
And trembling hands
That kept holding on.
We are blooming,
As we unlearn the falsehood
We used to preach to our hearts
That we are worthless
And inadequate.
We are blooming,
Slowly, bravely,
With petals still unsure
If the sun will stay,
But opening anyway.
We are blooming,
With no need for permission
To be our beautiful selves.
