The revelation was unexpected.
She had watched this flower
bud
and bloom.
The bud was small, so when the bud developed and opened,
she was amazed at the size of the flower,
the red flower
that stared into the filtered light of the open window.
She knew she had changed,
even as she watched the flower grow.
She would sit, during her break, and read,
avoiding her co-workers for these few, precious moments.
She didn't need them to watch the flower grow.
She only needed to watch the flower herself.
She had gone to the arboretum when the
Corpse Flower
had bloomed.
The flower smelled of death, and when the flower died,
no one was upset.
That flower stunk.
The flower would never change.
She had changed.
She had faced death.
She was strong.
She knew she would survive,
now.
She had heard the cries of others,
and
they told her that she was weak.
She had survived the assault.
She chose life
She was a mother.
She was strong.
Not only would she survive,
but
her baby would, too.
Their beauty came from strength.
They were not corpse flowers
as others tried to convince them
they were.
She smiled when she saw the flower.
It was good.
She was strong.
She had bloomed.
She was strong!
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