I Bloom From

April 30, 2009
By Rachel Hardison BRONZE, Jefferson, Louisiana
Rachel Hardison BRONZE, Jefferson, Louisiana
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I Bloom From
I bloom from summers in the park
And weeks in new places.
From “We can’t find Lizzy and Whitney.”
And falls with Tennessee accents.
I bloom from husky green and white,
Lions of blue and gold,
And cubs and ragdolls brown and blue.
I bloom from grape juice carpets and dull wood floors
From snowballs and church just a short walk away.
I bloom from a blue tarp back yard with a vegetable garden on the side
From running to get grandpa for dinner before he can heat up the leftovers in his fridge.
I bloom from burnt marshmallows on the yams and chocolate pudding pie.
From “Chinese Fire Drills” at Christmas where the adults steal presents from each other.
From Jesus rising when I blow out the candles every few years,
And bunny cakes with jellybeans and licorice
And coconut ears that I always passed to the next person.
I bloom from Out of the Box, Blue’s clues, and Barney.
From babies that talk, kids with weird shaped heads, and Christopher Robin’s yellow bear.
I bloom from late Sunday nights in Whoville and my Mother’s original lullabies.
From “Good Night Moon”, “I’ll Love You Forever”, and Golden books.
I bloom from sitting in Dad’s workshop doing phonics worksheets
And playing hide-and-seek with Lizzy in between the Styrofoam props.
I bloom from a late night at Tulane hospital: in pain, in plaster up to my knee, throwing up.
From days wheeling in my wheelchair through the neighborhood just dad and me.
I bloom from crying 'cause while they sawed off my cast I think they took my leg skin with it.
From learning to walk again, getting fitted for a new DAFO at Mr. Bill’s, and going to PT.
I bloom from watching TV and making cookies with my sister
While Dad slaves trying to prepare the house for the hurricane:
“Hey! That Katrina storm won’t actually come to New Orleans.”
I bloom from figuring out that it’s time for a Target trip
‘Cause I only packed for five days and I won’t be going home till October at the earliest.
I bloom from smirking as people still ask if the water is out of the city three years after Katrina.
But I bloom from finding that family has your back come sunshine, rain, or Hurricane.
I bloom from love and family and memories galore.

The author's comments:
This poem was originally written for a religion paper, but I loved doing it so much that I decided to submit it. I hope the reader can get a glimpse of my life from reading this poem.

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