When The Cracks Begin To Bloom

By Shifana

There’s something profoundly human about trees, 

they endure storms,

shed what no longer serves them,

and grow stronger from what once broke them.

Their scars don’t make them less beautiful, 

they make them timeless.

Maybe they’ve always known what we keep forgetting:

that healing isn’t about erasing the past,

but growing through it

until even the cracks begin to bloom.

As the seasons change,

trees do not wither, they grow,

layer by layer, their rings carving every storm,

every summer of warmth,

through winds that bent but never broke them,

each bearing the quiet stories of their scars.

Their bark, etched with time-worn scars,

still chooses to grow.

For they do not curb their being,

rather only carve the path of their unfolding.

Then why do we hide our own?

Why do we treat what shaped us

as something to be erased?

Our wounds are not ruins,

they are carvings

the gentle script of becoming.

Without our scars, who are we?

And without our healing,

where would our journey lead?

The sweetest scent of roses

blooms from the thorniest of stems,

and the softest petals

guard the sharpest edges.

It is the darkest voids

that birth the brightest stars,

and the longest nights

that awakens the purest dawns.

And just so,

the deepest wounds carry utmost strength and promise of transformation.

They teach us that beauty is not in perfection,

but in the art of mending,

and in the way we choose to keep blooming,

even after the rain.

Let us learn to turn our scars into strength,

our pain into patience,

our past into something that blooms.

For even broken soil can cradle new roots.

By Shifana