Creatio Ex Nihilo by Zinnia Allen

My existence began in a bed of rotting roses

In a garden waiting for a gift from a world

Washing away its wonder like the never-ceasing tide

a manifestation of a wish

to find something in the heavens

beyond just the stars

A face made beautiful by name

Made perfect through optimism

Imbued with Latin and luck

Born with a smile of broken glass

glittering like the wings of the termites

that cowered in the dust ridden dirt

Maybe not a rose, but a daisy

With simple petals that glisten like

stained glass at dew-damp dawn

A stem that twists and loops

like a rosary

A spirit composed solely of contrition

If not a daisy, maybe lavender

Delicate and sweet

Enveloped in lilac and loveliness

Giving way to the gently swirling breeze

But I never quite fit in a vase

A bit too solid, toes in the dirt

with the worms and everything

you just can’t fit in a

pretty little

box

never sat on a windowsill

where the sun meets your skin

through the bars of a cage

that looks something like a pedestal

They used to say beauty existed only on its knees

kneeling forever at the altar of my ego

but you shouldn’t look down to see yourself

stepping over the lily and the daffodil

who had knelt but move no more

in deathly still

push away the pain like

raindrops off glistening petals

in a prayer to a God who

was probably never

even there