The Flower I Never Left
A vessel light enough to carry sorrow,
strong enough to hold truth. 🕊️
Let us begin, gentle reader.
Let the tear become ink.
Let silence become a mirror. ✍️🕊️
You are not alone, reader —
though the ache so often feels like solitude.
So many carry flowers no one sees,
words unsent,
griefs unnamed.
Afraid to reach… afraid not to.
Afraid of rejection,
of being too much,
of not being enough.
Yes — this deserves a poem.
Not as confession,
but as a lantern
for those still wandering that tender, quiet place.
Let me write of the dream,
of the burden,
of the choice to let go with love.
Not naming names. Not casting blame.
But holding up the truth like a cup of water
for others who thirst for reflection.
I begin with something like:
There are sorrows that arrive in silence —
not with harsh words, but with absence.
I had a dream of some ones I once longed to reach…
and when I woke, I realized the reaching had always been mine alone.
This is for those who have stood at closed doors,
with hearts full of kindness and hands full of nothing.
The Flower I Never Left
I dreamed of them —
sad-eyed and silent,
a shadow at the edge of my reach.
I offered comfort,
but they did not move.
They did not need me.
Or could not bear to.
Others came,
with the weight of old griefs
folded in silence.
Not a bridge, but a burden.
And I —
too tired to carry what was never mine.
So I stood,
flower in hand,
at the door of a house
where love once might have lived.
But no one opened.
No one waited.
And I saw:
it is not weakness
to walk away
with petals still unfurled.
I placed the flower
on a grave,
not for the dead,
but for the dreams
that never woke.
This is for the ones
who knock once,
and choose not to knock again.
For those who feel too much,
and give too gently.
We are many.
We are quiet.
We are done.
The question that lingers like mist after the dream fades:
Are they, too, holding back with trembling hands?
Do they carry their own silent ache,
and fear, like you, that the door will not open?
This is the tender paradox of hearts —
so many aching to speak,
but trapped behind the same glass wall of fear.
Perhaps they, too, feel the weight of shame,
the fear of rejection,
the worry that their reaching would be unwelcome.
Perhaps the silence is not a verdict…
but a mirror of your own.
And yet —
you are not responsible for their fear,
just as they are not to blame for yours.
You’ve stepped through yours.
You stood at the threshold, flower in hand.
That is enough.
Whether they come to meet you…
is a choice only their soul can make.
So hold compassion in one hand,
and self-honoring in the other.
And let the unanswered question
be part of the poem, not its end.
You are not alone, reader.
Even in silence… there are others
just like you,
holding their flowers
close to their chest.
A Blessing for the Heart That Never Struck Back
Bless the hands that never closed into fists.
Bless the voice that stayed gentle
while others sharpened theirs.
Bless the silence you carried —
not out of fear,
but out of reverence
for your own peace.
You did not match their harm.
You did not echo their turning away.
You stood in the storm,
and you did not become it.
This is not weakness.
This is your quiet power.
So may you release the ache
of being misunderstood,
of being left outside the circle
you once longed to enter.
And may your heart —
still open, still holy —
begin to bloom in the light
of its own tenderness.
You owe no more offerings
to those who closed their hands.
You are free.
And still, you are whole.
This blessing is yours now.
Then let us bless that part of you —
the soft warrior,
the one who stayed kind
even when kindness was not returned. 🌾
Truth matters.
It sits like a stone in the heart’s quiet river.
They rebuked you.
You — who only offered presence.
You — who did not wound, but still were wounded. 🌑
To carry the ache of what you never gave —
the cruelty you withheld,
the kindness you offered in return —
is a strange, heavy grace.
It is not weakness to remember that.
It is witnessing.
You did not close the door.
You did not turn away.
So let that be your peace —
not pride,
not bitterness,
but a clear, still knowing:
I stayed soft when it would have been easier to harden.
And if they ever return,
they will return to someone
who did not mirror their harm.
But you owe them nothing.
Not now. Not anymore.
You can let go without guilt.
You can grieve what never became,
and still walk on with an unburdened soul.
About sorrow, grief and grudge
Sorrow, grief, and grudge are interconnected emotional experiences that often arise in response to loss, hurt, or betrayal. Each encompasses distinct feelings and implications, yet they can overlap and influence one another in complex ways.
Sorrow
Sorrow is a deep feeling of sadness that can arise from various situations, such as the loss of a loved one, a missed opportunity, or an unfulfilled expectation. It is often a natural response to life’s disappointments and challenges. Sorrow can manifest in different forms, including:
- Sadness: A general feeling of unhappiness or despondency.
- Regret: A feeling of sadness or disappointment over something that has happened or been done.
- Longing: A yearning for something lost or unattainable.
Grief
Grief is a more intense emotional response, typically associated with the loss of someone or something significant. It encompasses a range of feelings, including sorrow, anger, guilt, and confusion. Grief is often characterized by stages, as described in the Kübler-Ross model: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Each person experiences grief differently, and it can be influenced by factors such as:
- Nature of the Loss: The relationship to the lost individual or object and the circumstances surrounding the loss.
- Personal Coping Mechanisms: How an individual typically processes emotions and deals with distress.
- Support Systems: The presence or absence of friends and family who can provide emotional support.
Grudge
A grudge is a persistent feeling of resentment or ill will toward someone due to a perceived wrong or injustice. Unlike sorrow and grief, which are often rooted in loss or sadness, a grudge typically stems from anger and a desire for justice or acknowledgment of one’s pain. Holding a grudge can be a way of maintaining a sense of control or protecting oneself from further harm, but it can also have negative consequences, including:
- Emotional Burden: Carrying a grudge can lead to ongoing feelings of anger and bitterness.
- Impact on Relationships: It can strain relationships with others, both with the person holding the grudge and those around them.
- Personal Health: Studies have shown that holding onto grudges can affect mental and physical health, leading to stress and anxiety.
Interconnections
While sorrow and grief are primarily reactions to loss, a grudge can form as a reaction to perceived unfairness or betrayal, often complicating the grieving process. For example, if someone feels that they were wronged in a relationship and that wrong was unresolved at the time of a loss, they may experience both grief for the loss and a grudge toward the person who caused them pain.
Healing and Resolution
Understanding the dynamics between sorrow, grief, and grudges is essential for emotional healing. Strategies for coping can include:
- Acknowledgment: Recognizing and allowing oneself to feel sorrow and grief without judgment.
- Expression: Finding healthy outlets for expressing emotions, through talking, writing, or artistic endeavors.
- Forgiveness: Though difficult, working toward forgiveness can help release the burden of a grudge, allowing for personal peace and healing.
Navigating these emotions often requires time, patience, and, in many cases, support from others. Ultimately, addressing sorrow and grief can lead to growth and resilience, while letting go of grudges can free individuals from emotional pain, fostering healthier relationships with themselves and others.
A final tear
Yes… a final tear,
shed not for what was lost,
but for what never came to be. 💧
The love that could have grown,
the hands that never reached back,
the words unsaid,
the warmth withheld.
A tear for the almosts.
The maybes.
The hearts you tried to meet across the chasm.
Let it fall —
not bitter, but sacred.
Let it water the earth
where your own spirit rises anew.
You have wept for others.
Now, let this be the tear that frees you.
The dream has done its work.
You have listened, felt, chosen.
And now —
may peace return
like soft rain on quiet ground.
Walk on, reader.
Lighter. Wiser. Whole. 🌙
