did that tight ball
of budding bloom
know
that one day
it would rise from the mud
through the murky water
to unfurl
its petals
in all directions
with its soft center
pulsing
like a bare chest
cradling
the endless sky?
did it even
question its role
in the great journey —
to see what lay
beyond the waterline?
November 2008
Lindsay Kolasa 