Beautiful or Blighted?
Once upon a time in another age
I would ride to the station
Board the train taking my bike with me
Journey from village to town
Then cycle on to the hospital where I worked
Some times I’d shop on the way home
Always buying a bunch of flowers
They would perch in the mesh bag
Or in the basket on the front of the bike
On days when I didn’t work I’d walk to the shops
And the flowers would be nodding in the basket
On the way home
Even in the nurse’s home as a student
I would buy flowers
Once, from Gypsies, a clump of snowdrops
In a birch twig basket
I have been known to say
If I could not afford flowers
I would feel very poor
Nowadays walking to the shops and bike riding
Are beyond me
However the same pleasures
Of moving through the fresh air
Choosing flowers at the shops
And bringing them home
Come thanks to my power chair
And my wheelie walks
The other day I bought tulips
Known as Parrot Tulips
Frilly and Feathered at the edges of each petal
White streaked with vibrant lime green
They are the result of genetic mutations
I don’t trust genetically modified foods
But these floral mutations cause me to consider
How perfection bound we are
Researching Parrot Tulips
I discover passionate opposition from purists
These distortions are seen
As a blight of nature
I had read of trees suddenly producing a flare of foliage
Different to the parent tree
The variations became known as witch’s brooms
Such was the mystery and suspicion
Attached to them
We tend to react this way with people
Who are different to the ‘norm’
We are suspicious of them
Assuming there must be something wrong
With them
We react this way to our selves
If we fear we are not acceptable
If…
Instead of tormenting my self
Fearing I am unacceptable because
I do not fit the popular view
Feet too big, hips too large
Lips too thin, nose too wide
Skin too dark, hair too light
Age too evident
In wrinkles and greying head
How wonderful if these so called flaws
Were seen as a bonus
If we could put aside our suspicions
We may discover
Different can be refreshingly
Beautiful
Words and Pictures © Denise Stanford 2010
Within the Vine 