raised.

This grief is blooming
Blossoming, growing
The ash from the refining fire
Has given way to rich earth
Breeding and sustaining life
The scent and vivacity of such lusciousness
Has been a blessed reminder
That sorrow indeed singes and burns
Yet, the beauty born from these wounds
Is far more resilient and delightful.
For though I died
I have been raised to life.

 

 

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