The Rose That Blooms in the Night

Allie Michelle

copyright © 2019 by Allie Michelle. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.

Andrews McMeel Publishing

a division of Andrews McMeel Universal

1130 Walnut Street, Kansas City, Missouri 64106

www.andrewsmcmeel.com

ISBN: 978-1-5248-5916-9

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019938760

Editor: Patty Rice

Art Directors: Diane Marsh and Tiffany Meairs

Production Editor: Elizabeth A. Garcia

Production Manager: Cliff Koehler

Digital Production: Kristen Minter

Cover illustration by Rebecca Reitz

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Also by Allie Michelle

Explorations of a Cosmic Soul

For my mother, the rose that bloomed

in the night. These poems would
not exist without you.

Find the strength it takes to be soft.

—Allie Michelle

Part 1: Dusk

Rose of the Night

Have you heard the story of the rose

That blooms in the night?

Without the Sun’s presence

She grew from her own light

She did not yearn for

His warmth on her petals

For she knew she held the power

To radiate light from within

Though she had strong thorns

Her heart was always open

For those with an open heart

Can never be broken

Wings

I once knew a bird who was tamed by being convinced she was broken. They trained her to believe that if she attempted to fly free, she would experience pain. Her cage then started to feel safe. She could avoid pain within those four walls. But then something else happened. Those wings that were meant to soar lost their strength. Her life force weakened from not using her gifts, and she experienced deep sorrow. She was born a wild thing, you see. And though it was far more terrifying for her to explore the edges of this uncertain world, it was also what made her very blood sing. Her mind entrapped her within this room of doubt, but her heart knew the gate had been open the entire time. Have you allowed yourself to become caged, my love?

Oxygen of Life

love is always pressing onto your body

as the sea does to a fish,

and yet the fish is unaware of the water that surrounds it

so what are we to do about this?

they say love is the oxygen of life,

but why do I see so many people gasping for air

when all they need do is inhale?

Puzzle Pieces

I dreamed I saw each person as a walking puzzle piece. Each one whole, yet part of a greater picture. I watched as some of the pieces fit together, adding to each other’s masterpiece. Then there were the ones that looked close to fitting but maybe weren’t quite right. And I saw how, out of fear, they forced themselves to fit until their edges became soft and molded into an entirely different shape. What they did not realize was that the shape they had before was perfect. Now the piece originally meant for them would pass right by and not recognize them. Imagine if every piece had remembered that all its strange edges and colors were not always meant to make sense at first but that they carried within them a key to the cosmic puzzle.