avatarPenofgold

Summary

"Born from Flowers" is a reflective poem that uses the metaphor of a lemon clinging to its tree to explore themes of individuality, societal expectations, and the resilience of the human spirit.

Abstract

The poem "Born from Flowers" by Claudia S. Gold captures the essence of resilience and personal growth through the vivid imagery of a lemon remaining attached to its tree. The author expresses surprise that the lemon does not easily detach, drawing a parallel to how individuals in society often hold on despite pressures to conform. The lemon, plump and full, represents the potential within each person to grow and transform, yet it is often at risk of being prematurely plucked and commodified by societal norms. The poem highlights the struggle of maintaining one's identity in the face of societal pressures, likening it to the natural process of a fruit ripening. The discovery of a single lemon, named "yours," that has escaped being picked, symbolizes hope and individuality, suggesting that some manage to remain true to their essence, nurtured by the 'flowers' of their origins.

Opinions

  • The poem conveys a sense of wonder and surprise at the lemon's resistance to being picked, which can be seen as an analogy for individual resilience.
  • There is a critical view of societal norms, which are depicted as constricting and prematurely forcing individuals into roles before they are ready, much like fruit being torn from a tree for market.
  • The poem expresses a yearning for personal growth and self-actualization, comparing it to the natural development of a fruit on a tree.
  • The author seems to advocate for the importance of individuality and the nurturing of one's unique potential, as symbolized by the lemon that remains on the tree.
  • The poem suggests that society often overlooks the individual, as represented by the lemon that is initially missed but is significant to the poet and bears the reader's name.

POETRY

Born from Flowers

Poem for you

Photo by author

I’m surprised the lemon I tug does not fall in my hand. It stays whole

on its twig-hold, until ready to grow to what form I do not know.

It looks plump enough. I wonder how many lemons torn from trees shed seed tears, like we cry when tugged

into tight suits of society before our souls are ready to, kissed by sun, blossom. The fruit of the tree of humanity

torn from branch into cartons, as if for market.

Oh look, one was missed. She clings to the tree,

her name is yours, her parents - flowers.

© Claudia S. Gold

*Thanks for reading.

Poetry
Spirituality
Mindfulness
Mental Health
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