The Rose at the Table

Today is International Women's Day. A day we celebrate how far women have come.

And they have gone the distance.

But we also remember the women before, and the women of the present, who still remain the the beautiful rose on the table.

Praised. Appreciated?

When beauty is praised, the roots that were cut are rarely seen.

🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹

At the table's centre, in full bloom

A rose offered across the room;

Its red hues, the crowd does praise,

To its lovely form, toasts they raise.

🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹

But it seems pinned, it does stay still,

its stem does bend to perfect will;

It remains kept, stays in a vase

Petals shine bright red when asked.

🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹

They praised the bloom, its petals fine

Cut from its roots for all to shine;

But its wilting leaves, all do ignore

Its heartfelt pleas, how it implores

🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹

The flower knows, accolades come

Only when their will is won;

Its quiet form, by others shaped

On the table, for others laid. 

🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹

And the rose does own, as it debuts, 

That its blood red hue, a substitute;

It waits for all, it bides its time

To partake of hard-won wine. 

🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹🖤🌹

Poetry often speaks differently to each reader. If this rose stirred a thought or feeling for you, I would be glad to hear it.

Original poem for International Women's Day by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin. AI tags are coincidental.