Sunflower
Her face, flaxen and broad.
A molten black center of hot summers and lava sleeps,
as deep as the sky of Arabian nights and desert star searching.
Magic wishes flit and vanish into moonless seeds,
her dreams chased, found, and lost.
Her twisted trunk has weathered parched nothingness and rain drenched joy,
that vine’s her backbone, my dear, gnarled from use;
pass so many seasons, then you’ll grow one too.
And in the day, her cheerful tongues of flaming hair stream out to touch her sister.
She’s beyond boundaries, a woman of all seasons;
days and nights, truth over lies, and a flame for the ages.
The sun’s in you, my little flower—
her life, her buds, her fiery petals.
My sunflower, she is you.
Hello, I’m Anaiah! Welcome to my corner of the internet! I’m a writer, editor, and creative who is endlessly fascinated by people, books, beauty, and words—looking at life and its adventures through the lens of the hope Christ has for us. I work with poetry, devotionals, and fiction and love exploring the introspective, the emotional, the beautiful, and the questions life leaves us all facing. I hope you enjoy!
