Yet Beauty Remains

They bloomed beneath

The golden sun

quiet miracles

rising from the dark

Seeds split open in secret

tiny and green

reaching toward warmth

It had never seen

But always trusted

Petals soft as breath

Colors like joy made visible

They swayed among

their sisters in the wild

bathed in light

kissed by bees

brushed by wind

And then, one by one

gathered with care

a handful of grace

cut at the stem

woven into a bouquet of beauty.

No longer in the field

but for someone’s hands.

They came to me

offered with love

bright and fragrant

Like laughter held still.

And for days, they brightened my room

like a memory that hadn’t happened yet.

But time

as it does, moved on...

The petals curled

The scent faded

Some stems gave up altogether.

Others… stayed.

Dry, yes, changed

but still beautiful, just in a quieter way.

Today, I took them apart

Let go of what had gone.

Gently, I gathered what remained

folding those still-beautiful pieces

into a new bouquet

In a simple ceramic pitcher

among the baby's breath

and other things

that have learned how to last.

And I thought..:this is life

This is aging.

This is us.

We bloom.

We are gathered

We are given

We are loved.

We change

We look different....yet beauty remains.

A different kind. No longer as vibrant, but full of memory.

The softness deepens.

So does the strength.

No longer reaching, just… being.

And somehow, still speaking.

Not everything that fades is lost.

Not everything that changes is lesser.

Some things aren’t finished after they flower

They’re only just beginning

to show who they really are.

Tamara Bernal

2025