The Solitary Rose

Posted on by thefeministwriterwhogoesmeh

She was taking a stroll through the deep forest. With pinpricks of light coming through the sparse gaps in the dense canopy, it was a little easier for her to navigate. She felt drowsy. It had started to feel like she was drowning in the darkness, surrounded by countless shrubs and tall trees. It was becoming difficult for her to go on. She trudged on. Her burdens were weighing her down. She dropped to her knees and was about to completely collapse, when she saw something almost glisten behind a cluster of bushes.

She slowly crawled up to it, just to take a look at what it was. It was still hidden, so she weakly pushed through the foliage. It was a solitary rose.

The pure white of the matured and shapely petals shone, as a streak of light just happened to illumine it. It was perfect.

No rose could have flourished, if not for that bit of light that fell through the dense canopy. It was purely by chance that it happened to be just in the right place.

As she gazed intently at the rose, she started to see her own reflection in the petals. She looked at the rose in perplexity. Then, she slowly picked herself up. She remembered that she had ‘duties to fulfill’. She remembered that she had to let go of her burdens for some time. She remembered that she had to be the mirror that others could see their reflections in.

But it was difficult. It was always difficult.

28 thoughts on “The Solitary Rose”

  1. In the green forest
    There rose
    A rose
    It rose
    White
    In the light
    That said
    ‘Rise’
    And the rose thought
    It might
    And it
    rose like a surp
    rise
    Dressed in white
    disguise
    Like the red-eyed little mice
    That nibbled on the
    ice
    creamy insides of the cake
    And then made a mistake
    Because they all went off to sleep.
    But they rose
    Next dawn
    When the early morning light
    Poked their eyes with something
    bright
    And asked them to rise
    And then
    What a
    surp
    rise –

    Like

    Reply

      1. Trickle wickle
        Finicky fickle
        Writing’s illusory!

        Menotdunnit
        Yenotdunnit
        So I tellusorry.

        Thisnomatter
        Idlechatter
        Mere illustory.

        Like

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    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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