The cold kills.
Slices through my veins,
Crawls into my skin
Until tears stain the floor.
The cold hurts.
Scrape your knee on the snow, and it will bleed:
White snow flooded with red,
Traces of murder,
And you wonder, what died here?
In the coldest of winters
Blooms the most beautiful flowers.
Winter is over now,
And I’ve found that
My tears have become seeds.
Planted in the ground,
Ready to flourish.
The blood is now a red flower.
It does not die easily.
It lives through storms,
And can live without being watered.
In the most extreme conditions,
My flower can thrive.
She can flourish, grow faster than any other flower.
When winter comes again,
I don’t need to be
Scared.
When the cold kills,
When it hurts and it bleeds,
I know that out of it I will get an invincible flower.
Elisa Min is a seventh-grade student with a passion for poetry. She discovered her love for writing at a young age and enjoys exploring themes of nature, identity, and the human experience through her poetry. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading voraciously or spending time outdoors, drawing inspiration from the world around her. She is excited about the possibility of sharing her work with a wider audience.
Featured image by Nikki Son.
