Opening

a flower

doesn’t push itself open

by force:

instead,

the tight bud

just

relaxes its grip.

it’s no groaning effort but

a release: after

surviving the struggling

emergence out of dark soil,

the plant is basted by sun and rain

in equal measure.

Then, one day the

petals just

flop open –

soggy and

radiant –

to meet

the sky.

o that everybody

everywhere

could know this

succumbing:

not rich, not rare

but a simple soft joining

in belongingness

to the family of all things.

I hope you can

relent

relax

re-story:

so you can know

the plain holy flowering

of letting go.