still bloomed

Last year my mother’s Azalea bush didn’t bloom.

It was watered, cared for, and still didn’t bloom

It just sat there barren, no evidence of life 

Although the soil was nurtured and the roots were strong, its branches were no reflection of its story.

Seasons went by, questions were asked 

Wondering if this was a part of some bigger plan

It had accepted its fate and decided to just make the best of it

And then another Spring arrived

The final answer to whether I could sustain life or had I truly died?

Now living away from home I got a text from my mom asking,

Guess what bloomed? 

Her Azalea bush…

It still bloomed

What was once dry, was now full of life

The pink petals whispered in the wind

The green leaves reflected a healthy sheen 

The evidence of its journey finally arrived 

And put to rest the rumors of whether its spirit truly died

This year my mother’s Azalea bush still bloomed

And it made me realize that even with my hardships, I did too…