Bloom, Sweet Azalea

Take refuge in the shade,
But don’t let it pale you,

Find safety from the scorch
Of life, the pressure of light,

Of breathing, blossoming,
Becoming something more.

Take the moon and make it yours.
Drink the stars like Evening Primrose,

Moonflower, Glory’s cousin,
Comes to life in darkness,

And so can you.
Bloom, sweet Azalea,

Haste not, but tiresome
Is the day of hiding

From the colors
You were born to show.

Better to paint the land
Brilliant pink,

Better to shed blood,
Better to wilt and wither

Than spend one more second
Being anything less than beautiful you.