Season of Life
Not everything blooms in the open.
Some things unfold in the shadow,
in the hush between who you were
and who you are becoming.
Beneath the mirrored surface
of the frozen self you show the world,
roots speak the language of longing,
syllables of hope and trust
carved in dark soil.
There is a silence that
comes before the thaw,
not emptiness, but
a gathering of forces.
Perhaps you think
you must burst forth like
a trumpet of daffodils,
but the truth is even
they began in secret.
It is enough, some days,
just to lean toward light.
Why not be the one
to whisper yes to spring
when all your bones
still feel the chill of winter?
Spring does not arrive
all at once, but rather
in the way your truth does,
in glimpses of green,
in seeds of emergence,
in flutters of new leaves,
in whispers on the breeze.
One day, as you grow,
you will discover yourself
barefoot, unhidden, free,
new and ancient all at once.
An entirely new season of life.
–Deb Stone