I wasn’t always a woman, I wasn’t always this soft; I had to learn from the flowers after the storm, how to be, and how to survive them, both.

I am the bloom that rises from the wreckage, the petal that unfurls in the aftermath of chaos. I am the alchemy of strength and vulnerability, the resilience that emerges from the tempest, softened by the gentle touch of grace.

I learned from the flowers, those delicate warriors who bow to the fury of the storm and rise again, adorned with the shimmering pearls of rain. I learned to weather the tempests of life, to bend but never break, to embrace the scars as stories etched in my skin.

I learned from the flowers how to be, how to embody both fragility and fortitude, to hold the weight of the world with tenderness and courage. I am the embodiment of their wisdom, the echo of their resilience that whispers through the wind.

I learned from the flowers how to survive the storms, to find beauty in the brokenness, to gather the shards of my spirit and weave them into a tapestry of strength. I am the bloom that rises from the ashes, the testament to the indomitable spirit that refuses to be extinguished.

I am not just a woman; I am the symphony of life’s contradictions, the melody of vulnerability and power, the harmony of softness and strength. I am the embodiment of the flowers after the storm, a living testament to the art of survival, and the beauty that blooms in adversity.

© Beatriz Esmer