Poem

 Oh, rebellious root of crimson hue,

What foolish dreams took hold of you?

To spurn the dark, safe earthen bed,

And hoist your leafy, reckless head!

You traded soil and mineral grace

To wither in this open space,

Exposed to wind, to sun, to crow,

Where honest veggies never go.

Your taproot dangles in the air,

A monument to your despair.

No longer drinking from the loam,

You left your blind and blissful home.

So wither now in stubborn pride,

With purple skin completely dried.

You broke the subterranean rule,

You stubborn, subterranean fool.

I stand before you, proud and red,

And do not mourn my earthen bed!

You call me foolish, wild, and blind,

For leaving safety far behind.

But what is life within the clay?

A sentence served day after day,

To choke on mud and drink the rain,

In silent, suffocating pain.

The haughty rose, the sunflower high,

Are granted freedom in the sky.

While we, who build the deepest taste,

Are hidden, buried, and erased.

Behold my crown of violet bright!

It was not made to hate the light.

I traded dark security

To breathe the wind and finally see.

So let me wither, let me fade,

Beneath the sun that Heaven made.

I’d rather die in glorious flame

Than live in mud without a name!