the Plucked

Hope.
A delicate,
Lavender
Flower.
SMASHED.
Between the pages
of a long,
Forgotten Story.
"Pressed,"
Some call it.
Flattened.
Preserved.

"Preserved" until
Most evidence
of her previous
Life
Has been
Destroyed.
Snuffed out.
Extinguished.

The intricate
Curves
of her petals-
Now flat.

The sweet, soft
Scent
of her center-
Now stale.

Every drop of
Life water
Squeezed out
from
Between the pages
of another's
Story,
Seldom
Remembered.

Involuntarily
Plucked.
Severed.
Cut off-
from
Her natural
Community.

Now she is
"Relocated."
Isolated.
Alone.

Now she is
only
a flat,
scentless
Picture-
Evidence
of what
Once was,
But
No longer is.

Without the others,
She is
Vulnerable
to
And
Helpless
against
the
senseless
Whims
of her
Plucker.

No longer
flexible,
She is now
fragile.

Now,
when the Wind
blows,
She
no longer
enjoys
how It tickles
her pollen
and sways
her slender stem.
Now,
instead,
She
only
worries
How It can
Break
her stiffened spine.

She is now
"Preserved
Forever."
Yet
She is now
also
Denied
her Opportunity
her Possibility
her Innate Ability
to
Replenish
and
Rejoin
the others.