Flowering Tea

It is just a dry, dead bulb

Dull and faded in color

Curled up tight on itself like packed potpourri

I plop it in the glass teapot

And it clinks around, hard and lifeless
And I wonder at its potential.

Still, it has a purpose, a destiny,
And the boiling kettle on the stove whistles

To let me and this rigid ball know that it is time for change.

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.
It surrenders.


And at that moment I start to see a change.

The blanched leaves that were clutched so tightly

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.

And just when I think the transformation is complete…

The water begins to swirl with color –

Pale pink, bronzed tan, earthy brown, richer and richer every moment.

The scent of lily and jasmine fills the room

The flower blooms still more lovely, it smells still more fragrant.

The heart is broken open and set free –
And because it is changed,

Its life now changes everything it touches.

~ Flowering Tea

by C.L. Chandler