THE COURAGEOUS FLOWER

 Raindrops dripped from a branch of the large oak tree.  The young woman watched in fascination as each dop struck the beautiful flower beneath it.  It was pushed down again and again until its face touched the earth.  Specks of dirt clung to the yellow petals.  Yet the young daffodil kept rising, almost defiantly.

 The rain finally ended, and the dripping water came to a stop.  The woman gently turned the flower toward her, brushed away the flecks of dirt, and gazed at its beauty.  For those few moments, nothing else seemed real to her – only the beauty and resilience of the flower.

She thought of the world behind her – the dogs, the fence, the crematoria.  Blows were even now falling on the backs of friends as their faces were pushed into the dirt.  Yet they too had risen, and risen.  Loved ones carefully brushed away the stains of humiliation and shame seeing instead their beauty and their courage.

 The woman looked again at the flower and nodded.  As she stood to leave, she murmured to the flower, “I love you.”  And a single tear fell from her cheek and caressed the flower.