I used to wonder why I never got them. Why no one would ever bring me one of the 20,000 types of daisies out there one afternoon, when the sunlight was streaming through the windows but it was too chilly out for blooming. So one day, I made some for myself out of some dirty old cardboard and an old screen. It was good day; just rolling the ink over the surface and feeling like I was adding something beautiful to an otherwise bleak place. It took me years to accept that no one but me liked them and they stayed locked away for some time.
It's that way with kindness too, isn't it? You open yourself up to let a little light out. And it hurts to be so open and so exposed, like you split your ribs wide and ran with your most vulnerable part forward into a war. And it is hard for me to accept that, sometimes, that kindness meets cruelty, so I wish I could lock it up like my daisies.
The problem is that nothing is that simple and nature rarely hides for long. The clouds only cover Orion for so long, and you eventually have to let yourself go again.
And it's hard to be this way when the world is not and hard to let go of the hatred that comes when you're left holding your peace in the palm of your hand and the ugly whine of desperation
still rings in your ears.
So I pray, with a candle and a pen, to being able to breathe and to be able to see the beauty and the peace which is right beside me even when the sunlight streams through the windows and it is too chilly to bloom.
I hope you can someday do the same Les Petite Fille, because karma can be a real bitch when you don't.
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