Replanted
The weary flower
is being replanted.
Not because it failed,
but because the soil was wrong.
The pot was too small for its roots.
Its roots learned how to survive drought,
how to bend toward slivers of light,
how to stay alive
when nourishment was nonexistent.
Now, gentler hands loosen the earth.
No tugging.
No tearing.
No picking.
Just care.
The flower does not rush to bloom.
It rests.
It relearns safety.
It drinks slowly.
Replanting looks like stillness.
Like patience.
Like trusting that growth
does not need to be painful
or loud.
Soonβ
not today, not tomorrowβ
but in time,
it will open again.
And this time,
the sun will not burn it.
It will growβ
slowly, honestlyβ
into something more beautiful
than the last time it bloomed.
~J.D.












