Tulips

Tulips used to grow in her garden
every spring, reaching their feet deep
and pulling nutrients out of the earth
to help them sprout their little heads
out of the soft New York dirt

They were one of her favourite flowers
I remember looking at them in the early
morning light when I was being
dropped off for a full day of her company

I used to want to be a tulip
because I don't know what you're expecting of me
Being a tulip seemed so much easier
People look at you and gaze
and expect you to be beautiful
and nothing more

Tulips seem to have a sense of
compassion and courage
that I can't find in myself
and I try to pull it out of the ground
and place my roots deep in the sandy
New Mexico clay
But nothing happens

My roots remain dorment
and I remain wilted