Blood Born Wildflowers

I’m not quite sure what is right and wrong anymore, so I’m ripping up my own garden. Tilling and digging until my fingernails are covered in dirt. I am desperate, weeping as I rip out and throw away everything I thought was beautiful. Because what can even be considered beautiful during this overwhelming pain. The earth is pushed so deep under my nails that it's starting to mix with my blood. I can't scrub them clean. Now my fingerprints leave little pieces of ash on everything I touch. I think I’ve torn out some weeds but I’ve also ripped away some of the flowers that had once bloomed. When I look at who I used to be, I see someone to be proud of. But shouldn't I be proud to simply exist? Can I grow to be proud of who I am right now, covered in dirt, weeping in this tear soaked soil, holding dead flowers in my hands. Should I rip pieces of my heart apart? Plant them and water them just to watch and see which ones fight to reach the light? Do I even want that perfect garden anymore? Or could I build one that’s a little more free? I want wildflowers covering every inch, weeds surrounding thorny roses, and vines wrapping in and out of the dirt. I want it a little chaotic. So chaotic that you aren’t sure what was planted intentionally or what just blew over with the wind and found a new home. Would I still love me if my garden reflected my soul; chaotic and wild, charming and unguarded? I am still fighting to be the garden people admire, only to be the one that children trample on and dogs dig in. But maybe that’s what I want to be: a place that is lived in, loved on, a little broken but a little untamed. If you saw me, would you notice the dirt in my hair if you held my face as I wept? I keep trying to rip out these roses. Why are these roots so deep. Thorns keep getting stuck in my skin as I bleed down into the soil. I see now that my wildflowers are growing from the dreams pouring out of my veins. I lay fragmented under the sun now, sinking deeper into the ground, in a garden forever tinted red with my blood.

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