Standing in a field of pink, white, and red roses, each one
blooming beautifully at its own pace to create a cacophony
of colour, I can’t help but focus on the single lavender rose
hidden among the rest. Unlike the others, its petals are
slightly bruised, wilting slowly while sitting behind the
shadows of the other flowers. Its thorns have been snipped
off, no defence laying at the ready to help protect it from
devilish hands, and its stem is frail, ready to break at any
moment while trying to support itself.
Rather than glowing with confidence and joy, its aura emits
waves of insecurity and sadness, as if telling the world out
right that it isn’t beautiful like the rest. That it doesn't
deserve love because it’s not bold or strong enough, feeling
as if its existence is just taking up space, preventing
worthier roses from blooming. It's already accepted the
idea of death before truly getting to live.
I approach it, and remove it from the ground with gentle
hands, along with a chunk of soil to help hold its roots
together. I hastily make my way back home, planting the
rose in a small vase and resting it beside my bedroom
window. The curtains are pulled back, and I witness the
rays of sunshine envelop the rose in warm comfort, as if
telling the rose that it's safe now. That it will be okay and
will survive. A profound difference in comparison with
where the rose resided before.
And just like the rose, the rays of sunlight give me a sign.
A mission to help protect and heal this lavender rose. To
bring back its strength and replace its feelings of despair
with one of hope, so that it may thrive and blossom just as
spectacularly as the other roses in the world. That’s what I
was determined to do. And perhaps, maybe by doing that?
I could learn to do the same for myself. To
unapologetically be myself and bloom with utter
confidence, just like my lovely lavender rose.
DoubleSpeak 