I plop it in the glass teapot
Still, it has a purpose, a destiny,
And the boiling kettle on the stove whistles
Water pours into the pot and the bulb spins and fizzes,
Protesting such a harsh and painful awakening.
The pot is full now, the spout steams,
Drops of moisture form against the domed lid, and
The bulb settles on the bottom again,
As though it is tired of fighting and resisting.
And at that moment I start to see a change.
Extend like muscles loosening, stretching, letting go.
A brighter green peels back and deep inside
The heart is unveiled in hues of pink and red
With surprising greatness and grace
And it continues to grow, to bloom, to flourish.
The water begins to swirl with color –
The scent of lily and jasmine fills the room
The heart is broken open and set free –
And because it is changed,
~ Flowering Tea