You grow slowly underground
where sound is muffled.
While above - love, trauma, paper-cuts-
respectively blossom, encroach, slash.
Do you know? While you grow I
wait and imagine your sweetness?
Beside the chaos:
I can already see your purple juices
painting my hands- brilliant!
I can already smell the tang of you,
taste the healthiness. You matter.
I recognize you as the sun,
even if you cannot see it's true.
Oh holy beet, I cannot wait to meet you!