by Mel Bjorgen
MY SWEET DAHLIA
She met me, bold-faced, one morning
as I was walking out the door,
and I gasped.
She was exquisite.
It was as if
mathematics and creativity married
just to create this perfect bloom—
the color of the top of a
sunset on a clear evening.
A dusky sunbeam.
“How beautiful you are,” I delighted
and lightly touched the petals.
Each morning,
I marveled.
Each morning,
she stretched and unfurled
a little more,
showing me her brilliance.
I began to think about
her origins.
How she was planted and tended.
How her roots first built a base
to support her long stem.
Then,
she burst proudly through the soil
and produced a bud,
like a bonnet on a baby’s head.
Her petals flicked upward,
one by one,
splendidly.
I said a prayer
of thanksgiving to God,
because the bloom
reminded me that I too
began in the earth
and had to grow roots
before I could spring forth.
Many times,
I was impatient to grow
and bloom boldly.
Yet my Creator knew
when the time was right.
Just as this dear flower
does not exist
without its unseen beginnings,
neither do I.
So, I praise God for the growth
and for my sweet dahlia.
MEL BJORGEN
Mel Bjorgen has a Master of Divinity in Professional Chaplaincy and currently works as a hospice chaplain with Ohio Living Home Health and Hospice.
She writes a poem almost weekly about her chaplain experiences on her Substack, Literary Christian Meatloaf. In her free time, you will find her enjoying the garden she lovingly planted at her home in the city of Columbus, watching documentaries of all genres, or reading.
She and her husband stay busy raising their three teenagers and two lovable dogs.