Monday, June 1

Rose is always a rose and a violet is always a violet


Rose is always a rose and a violet is always a violet




Today I was standing in Bryant Park for no reason at all thinking about how I haven't posted on tears4seasons in ages and I looked around and a pot of violets caught my eyes. As I looked at the violets it was almost like they whispered to me; like the fish in the lil mermaid to the prince, “just kiss the girl”. They whispered to me let us be your muse; let your pen kiss us. Weird I know, but the way the violets stood was very symbolic to my life; past, present, and all hopes for the future.
I noticed a cluster of violets that seemed to all look a like creating a beautiful picture; but, one stood apart and alone and was just as beautiful. Just like I had seen pieces of me in the stars, a rose in concrete, and the imagery of me on the clouds I had saw myself in that violet; standing alone but just as beautiful.

Her sister flowers were near but she still desired to grow at her own distance making sure to stand out. Even though she grew from similar beginnings it was almost like she knew that she would not be placed under, not overshadowed, but instead stand dominantly on her own.
Probably not; I mean violets have no say on where they grow, right? Possibly the hands that planted her may have known but she did no more than grow in the condition provided to her.

Although she stood alone she didn't seem to be alone, and that is what meant so much to me. You can stand alone; you can choose to have your own ray of sunshine, and sip the water of the soil that feeds your unbounded roots and know that it’s ok to nurture alone. But she wasn’t so far from her sister violets where tough winds would leave her without care; no, they were there. If a wind blew I am sure she would be able to sway her petals right beside those of her sisters. She stood alone but it made her no less a violet. They may be clusters but they can stand alone; like my sorors, like strong black women, and just like I can.

I say with DISTINCTION: I am a ROSE the that grew out of concrete; a tree that GROWS in Brooklyn, a CUTTER of the glass ceiling, and a beautiful VIOLET; WHAT ARE YOU?