a rose opens unevenly.

some petals curl,

some edges tear.

no one asks it to be less sensitive.

it was shaped before it knew

what shape it was allowed to take.

touched by rain while still a bud,

weathered by wind before it bloomed.

by the next rain,

the bloom had shifted. 

opening without splitting,

bending without breaking.

it leaned towards the light,

where sweetness settled in its stem. 

a silent aroma of its own.

yet, some days the rain is light.

some days heavy,

some days absent.

only later does the rose learn the difference 

between rain that nourishes

and rain that bruises.

the difference between 

being held 

and being handled.

petals fall when they must.

no one calls them a failure for falling.

even as they crease,

no one calls them a burden for withering.

we call them beautiful.

Edited by Ryan Grogan

Artist Statement: Few have the courage to refuse to let their pain define their capacity to love. The poem “Florescence” (the process of blooming) ultimately reframes vulnerability as a form of strength: a conscious decision to remain open to light even after learning what pain feels like. The rose is marked by creased petals, yet its value is never diminished. In aligning nature’s imperfections with resilience, the poem exemplifies Echolalia’s theme that life’s duality consists of both blooming and withering, and that both are beautiful.