In response to Robert Frosts’ Lodged

I’ve felt like this flower

letting everything overpower.

But the sun shone bright beams

Drying up the dark shower.

Delicate petals brush the mud off

As the face looks up to the sun.

Where once this flower knelt,

It’s the power of its roots it felt.

And with effort it stood up

To the wind and the rain.

Nothing could bend this stem

For this flower knows its own power.

By Sara Febles
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I wrote this poem last year in May. It’s taken me a lot of steps, but I’m not lodged in place. I feel the sun on my face.

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