For the most part, no one sees into our hearts and minds. No one sees all that we have endured, and are still enduring. Those who wear their drama like a Broadway production never draw my eye, nor my emotion. My eye falls onto those that, like me, keep their drama tucked behind the curtain. And rarely do I let anyone peek backstage.

Of course, no one can weep at my struggle or applaud my achievements when all things are kept out of view. I don’t plan on changing my ways, however. I’m soon to be 43 and this is the method that has kept me in tact and has gotten me this far – so its the method that will most likely accompany me till my final day.

We all fall apart though. Sometimes with a loved one by our side – if we are fortunate. But often, its when alone. And at times, those like me, wonder if anyone has ever noticed. If anyone has watched and taken account of how we’ve always chosen strength instead of revenge. Kindness instead of cruelty, and that we’ve given when quite sure we had nothing left to give.

In 1970, Dave Richardson wrote a song after watching a young nurse struggle with grief after losing two patients. She was exhausted, but gave all she had. The death had nothing to do with her, yet the loss touched her deeply. She felt the pain, even though she did not inflict it, nor cause it. To feel it, the pain does not have to be that of our own. And often, that’s the most painful kind. The song he wrote was: Wildflower.

To the women I know and those I don’t, that always find a bit more love to give, even when receiving none; who extend a hand, even when no one has reached for theirs; who smile while crying inside – I dedicate this song. You are strong. You are beautiful, and you are not alone.



She’s faced the hardest times
you can imagine
and many times her eyes
fought back the tears
and when her youthful world
was about to fall in
each time her slender shoulders
bore the weight of all her fears
and the song that no one hears
still rings in midnight silence
in her ears
Let her cry
for she’s a lady
let her dream
for she’s a child
let the rain fall down upon her
she’s a free and gentle flower
growing wild

And if by chance that I
should hold her
let me hold her
for a time
and if allowed but one possession
I will pick her from the garden
to be mine

Be careful how you touch her
for she’ll awaken
for sleep’s the only freedom
that she knows
and when you look into her eyes
you won’t believe
the way she’s always payin’
for a debt she never owes
and the silent wind still blows
that only she can hear
and so she goes

All rights reserved

Have a wonderful weekend. And even when you think no one does – please know, someone noticed.


Inspired and written to: Wildflower by Skylark

5 thoughts on “Wildflower

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