Closed Bloom

I am closed. Though once a flower in full bloom.

I now regress. I fold petal upon petal and ever-tightening pleats.

A small green bud made hard against all that is harsh. It is not

the weight of those I love, though burdens they bestow.

But life and all its cycles. Skirmishes and wars were never a lesson learned.

The bigotry and hatred over race, religion, and the color

of our skin. The cycle of boom and bust to the detriment

of the poor. The simple world weariness. I am tired. I am closed.