Years passed by.
A million roses bloomed and shattered, 
petals falling to the dirt.
I thought they were beautiful, 
both fresh blooms and fallen petals.

More about the years:
A thousand miles were silently driven.
Road was rolled over by rubber, 
tread there and gone, 
a quick passing.
The purpose was 
to get somewhere that is not road, 
and be still 
and be silent again.

There were a hundred spoken disappointments. 
In the beginning
I didn’t realize 
I was expected 
to fulfill a wish 
for perfection. 

A hundred 
deliberate brick silences 
were imposed
to shut down any back and forth. 
It was effective.

I am more than 100 expectations 
laid on me. 
I am more than 1,000 miles 
I am more than 1,000,000 
shattered roses

I am but one.

But I am


I am not silent.
I am talking now.
I’ll tell you what I learned 
from a rear view mirror.
I understood more 
as rubber rolled on road.
I see the expectations 
and resist conforming 
because it’s not where I’m going any longer.
I checked in with my own hopes
and decided our roads diverged.
I can hold my past up high 
and need no consolation prize 
for the pains.
Indeed, shattered roses are beautiful lessons.

I walk, eyes open, into my seasons,
Forward and happy to go.

Lynette Hensley