the field . . . .

my life is a field. lined with flowers of every shape and size. nikki is a purple orchid. fluffy a pansy. justin a snapdragon. wesley a bloodred rose. dakota a snow white stinging nettle. so pretty but whenever i try to pick either one i hurt. nettles sting my skin leaving me hurting for a long time. thorns prick my skin making me bleed. i walk through the field and see all of the flowers and think about how blessed i am to have them in my life. all of the colors. the orchid, standing tall and proud, the pansy so close to the ground, the snapdragon even taller but as proud as the orchid. the rose, surrounded shredding itself with it's own thorns, a lily tearing itself on his thorns trying to get closer to it. on it's side, trying to recover, a sad withered peice of lavander, looking delacate tries to stand to face the sun, a victim of his thorns, the thorns that are slowly killing him as well. to look from afar this is a paradise, but closer the world is so sad. even the orchid, wilting out of pain inflicted on her heart. but now i just walk through, thinking how much i love my field, how pretty it is, how sweet my flowers. to be a flower i think to be like the rest. . . . i know that i do have a place, a solitary moonflower, hidden until night, nobody no matter how hard they try can coax me out of my bud all the way, only barely seeing my petals, at night the dew on those petals are my tears falling when no one can see. of course i have always been able to forgive the flowers that cause pain, it is only a natural defense right? and as i look at the nettle and rose, the blood and tears in my skin, i can do nothing but forgive, after all who am i, a little moonflower to expect anything to do to help them? all i can do is hope the sun shines true and red for them all as the moon shines silver for me. i always have been able to forgive the rose and nettle. i've always seen them standing majestic and true in the sun, the thorns and stings always leave me wondering why though, why hide from people, allow them nowhere near? but now i know. they want nobody to see how they are suffering. now i wish i was a rose, instead of a moonflower, though nobody can see me without waiting all day, they can still pick me at night, my petals all out and wisk me away. they can still find me and tear my petals all off one by one without any resistance on my part. like a pretty grey eyed girl who came running into my field for who-knows-why. i was crushed underfoot as she ran past. though i still forgive her because that's all i can do. she didn't see me. if i was more like the rose, so bright easily seen but untouchable i would have been safe. . . .but now i stand watching the flowers around me wilt out of pain and bitterness. my field. my pretty field. soon to be nothing more than a barren landscape and somehow i feel like it's all my fault.