Hibiscus

Listen to this poem here. 

I am learning to breathe instead of strive. 

That while the tightly clenched bud hints of beauty, the real story is held safe inside. It is not through strength and willpower that I can slowly release my grip, but only a gentle yielding to time and trust. 

Blossoming is not straining but a delicate stirring calling to inner vibrance. It is neither impatient nor hurried, but instead a quiet continual letting go in tiny increments of grace. 

No need to thrust my deepest self forward, to force the opening.  As I exhale, my shield relaxes imperceptibly, layers leisurely loosen until I unfold and am fully me, open and whole. 

And my heart, wreathed in colour, reaches joyfully toward the warmth of the sun.