If my child was a flower

If my child was a flower… would he realize that he was different from the other flowers?

Would he know that he looked the same and yet didn’t fit in with the rest? Would he know that his scent was a little different from the others, that he was a little less vibrant, a little less tall and sturdy?

Would he know that even though he’s mostly the same that he’s different enough for some people to think he’s a weed?

If my child was a flower… would he wish that he could be in a flower pot by himself? Would he wish that he the other flowers didn’t seem so foreign to him?

Would he question the soil in which he lives? Would he question whether or not his water is different? Would he blame the sun?

If my child was a flower… would he hate being stuck where he is? Mixed in among the rest of the flowers, invisible yet obviously different.

Would he know that he’ll be the last one picked? Would he know that most of the other flowers don’t want him there?

Would he care?

If my child was a flower… he’d be the only flower in the group with a hidden element, a special property… the one compound that could be harvested and made into a healing agent. He’d be the only flower in the group that could help the blind to see, help the unloved to feel loved… to help the lost be found.

Will he ever be given the opportunity? Will someone love him enough to discover what is hidden deep within him?

If my child was a flower… he would be a very special flower indeed.