Confession of a Plant

author’s note:

Flower power.


CONFESSION OF A PLANT

I wanted to tell of my fight
without telling of my fight
so instead I spoke of a plant
I’d found rooted down in dark rich loam
in junk behind a shed.

With the airs of an aesthete
I described
how the plant’s little green shoot
had fought its way up and out--
with glee I wrote
of how the stalk had turned and twisted
between the pitchfork tines
as the plant sought
the dangerous but life-giving sun.

In delicate detail
I told of how the leaves

had slowly anxiously unfurled
to provide sustenance
to a flower opening--despite its fear--
offering itself up
to guarantee the future
of the species.

Through this metaphor
I found relief in public confession
while sparing myself the embarrassment
of displaying my pain in plain view.

But as I bowed in respect
to that beautiful weed

I saw in its openness a challenge
and became embarrassed about
my fear of embarrassment:

a shame I now hope to ease
with this confession of my struggle.

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© 2021, Michael R. Patton