They beckon to be plucked, their beauty is inviting, they attract us and draw us in involuntarily and like zombies without thinking or considering we move close and we pluck them. We had no intention, no pre plan, we know not what to do with that which is in our hand, we sniff it, stare at it for a bit and then we discard it indifferently. Sometimes we pull it apart and flung it petal by petal away, other times we crush it whole under our feet. And there are times we just place it absentmindedly on the table and allow it to wither and die. We do not deserve any part of it, but because it was easily accessible, beautiful and had a soft stem we plucked it anyway. Brute human with no conscience! The question never cease to bother me, ‘why will the maker create such beauty, such tenderness, such vulnerability with no guard, no protection, roses have thorns which serves as a deterrent but not all beauties come with thorns, they atimes die in the hands of the undeserving.
Some have a glorious path, they get plucked by a caring gardener or just a caring person. She picks them, respecting their tenderness, has all the right intentions, tools and knowledge, position them in the right environment, feeds and water them ensuring there is the right amount of sunlight. Places them in a position of honour and some even speak to them. They live and die a dignified death. Some leave them all together allowing them to grow and thrive where nature placed them.
Some say ‘it’s all because you have a soft stem’ in a condemning tone. How can you judge a person based on their innate makeup? No man created himself, some will argue ‘recreate yourself, toughen up’. Do we really want to do that, but most importantly can we really do that? Can a softie become a toughie? What will life look like, when we move to pluck a flower but the stem are as tough as old boots?
Stay soft!
Beautiful Ivory 