Wild flower

Oh how I mourned
those sweet flowers,
taken far too soon.
The first tipped domino
in the collapse
that was to be
everything I knew.

But I didn't know
that those flowers were poisonous,
all I saw was the white light,
the clusters of beauty,
wild, and therefore free.

So in their passing
I believed myself to be a prisoner,
because my ignorance of God
shut out all possibility
that there was good
outside the walls
where those flowers grew.

Though they had venom,
they were not weeds,
they were not evil.
They were a moment in time
that was meant for that moment in time
and none other.

Now I leave those flowers
in the grey zone of my mind
where I no longer need reference
the time I was beaten down.
And there is no need to fear
that something is undone.

In so there is no dishonour,
no passing over of my past
in knowing now
what is gone
is not forgotten,
and nothing of me has been taken,
but perhaps instead
has been restored.