Nature does not hurry, Yet everything is accomplished. I’ve been talking to the trees again, They said the wind remembers names. I carved my hope in the bark one spring, Now moss has learned the same. Raindrops write in cursive lines, Across the pages of my skin. Every scar I tried to hide, Just let the sunlight in. The roots don’t rush, they know their ground, They teach the sky to wait. I found my peace in growing slow, And calling that my faith. So I root, I rise, I learn the weather, Break a little, bloom forever. Storms don’t end, they just get clever, And I keep changing like the tide. Every fall, I find my reason, Every spring, I shed my treason. Nature never needed Eden, She just breathes, and so do I. I met the moon down by the shore, She said the sun still loves her glow. They take turns being whole, That’s something I should know. I’ve been growing through the cracks, Where life pretends it’s done. Even stones can learn to bloom, If they remember where they’re from. Photosynthesis my pain! Turn the hurt to light again! What I bury, what I tend! Both will bloom before the end! So I root, I rise, I keep becoming, Every storm’s a kind of humming. Nature speaks, I’ve learned her timing, She says, “grow slow, you’ll still arrive.” Slow down in your pursuit of happiness, And it’s more likely to catch up with you.
