God
I am afraid to open
up again.
I am a flower
not daring to bud
needing to be hidden by the cool earth
Afraid my petals will be dull
with other flowers more
beautiful than I
catching the eyes
telling me to fall back
should i stay closed
calculate and repose
and risk my arms never
stretching
never giving what is
given.
should i open tall
and eat the sun
beckoning?
will i be beautiful?
or be cast away again
a weak weed
not worthy of poet's gaze
and writer's mussings