Tulips are a strange phenomenon. They open and close with light and darkness, but over-extend every morning until eventually they are unable to close. Then their petals fall off and all you have are their naked heads.

On that note, this month I am thinking about what it looks like to protect something when that something is your self. It was a difficult month of introspection, as old demons flared, and new situations demanded more rigorous thinking processes.

Growth is a strange and gradual thing. I guess I identify with that dirty, layered, buried tulip bulb, green shoot pushing through, sharp and soft at the same time. But I also see the inevitable logic of the tulip flower, its slow flirtation with sunlight and eventual intimate baring.

What in us keeps pushing past the layers of skin? Why don’t we learn? And why, like the tulip, do we pursue something like the sun with reckless abandon?

I question these things in me. Why knowing better doesn’t necessarily mean doing better. Why weaknesses over time are still weaknesses, just more protected. And when everything has fallen, what should I do with nakedness. Do I fall to the earth or scatter to the wind? What does it mean to be loved when all the petals have fallen?

May has more questions than answers, which isn’t a bad thing.
Just, most nights, allowing them to settle quietly across me, trying to pull in what I can so as to greet another morning, so as to greet another morning, and another, and another, and another, I wonder.

DSC04976DSC05086DSC04998DSC05095DSC05001DSC05062

 

Posted by:jasmine

Jasmine is an editor, poet, and community arts organizer. She comes to poetry by way of Chinese music. This blog is a mapping of ways.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s