Red poem

What do you think of

when you think of the color red?

Do you think of rebels or blood that was shed?

Do images of bright crimson apples 

fill your head?

Freshly squeezed pulp from a tomato crushed?

Cherry lips and scarlet cheeks daintily blushed?

Valentine cards and ruby colored foil on chocolate hearts?

What do you think of from the start?

🌹

When I think of red I think of this rose

placed in a clear glass vase 

in a solitary window sill the neighbors chose 

to display the vivid, florid blossom

with petals full and round

by the kitchen sink overlooking a barren yard

with not another flower or plant around

(aside from the rose bush).

🌹

But this wasn’t any rose,

It was a REBEL rose!

🌹

It was from a rose bush

a rose bush once five feet tall

that some new neighbors did not want

although blooms and buds filled it all

they hacked it down without a second thought

on a cool October day in the fall

pulled it out by the roots

plucking any remaining shoots

there seemed to be nothing left 

just dark earth, desolate and bereft.

🌹

Six months pass

the spring sun begins to warm the ground at last

as it did… a surprise emerged!

The rose bush that was supposed to be purged

took the risk and tried once more,

pushing through the dirt, began to restore

the life that once was,

despite the winter pause.

🌹

The neighbors doused it with weed killer

but the rose bush was as firm as a pillar

shoots turned to stems brimming with leaves

soon loaded with buds reaching for the eaves

until one day a red rose opened forth

as fierce as the flames of a fire

bravely baring its radiant face 

though doused prior

as if silently screaming, defiant

It would not be compliant. 

🌹

Who can resist such a delicate, determined beauty?

The neighbors could not.

One day the rose was no longer there

into their home it was brought

placed in a clear glass vase so that

nothing would obstruct such a sight

and so there it sat

in their house

on the window sill

the rebel rose

resilient and living still!

🌹

It had not given up

despite being harshly cut down

even it’s worst critics

decided it should be kept around.

The turmoil of the past was history

with the rose existing

in quiet victory

of what it had achieved.

🌹

So…

that is now what I think of

when I think of the color red

and how we ourselves

can choose to conquer 

INSTEAD

of letting others opinions

leave us bare and dead.

We all have a rose in us

wanting to come out.

Don’t bury it!

Let it bloom!

For just as that rose was meant to

so were you.

🌹

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A true story