The Garden of my Soul

the garden of my soul,
releases my bloom-
my
she,
awaits her-
flowering.
tender rebirth,
of my secret holding-
I lift my heart,
through hands releasing-
open arms wide,
to hold my sky-
awake from my night,
unfolding-
naked from my despair,
naked from my disguise-
clothe in the,
fragrant beauty-
of just me.
rose to thorn,
rain to storm,
sand to desert flower-
I have the power,
to look with eyes-
tenderly,
what wounds me-
heals me,
brings me to my flourishing.

Author Maureen Kwiat Meshenberg ©