Holly Briar

In shadows deep where silence grew,

Lived Holly Briar, small and true,

Her thorns drawn tight, her petals closed,

A captive bloom that no one chose.

The force that held her, dark and cold,

Kept stories that should not be told,

It pressed her down with heavy hands,

And built around her walls of sand.

Years passed like winter, long and gray,

While Holly learned to hide away,

Her brightness dimmed, her laughter still,

Bent beneath another's will.

But thorns, you see, were made to guard

The tender heart when life grows hard,

And Holly's spines, though turned within,

Held safe the light that lived therein.

One morning came—she cannot say

What changed, what shifted, what gave way—

The grip that held her loosened slow,

The walls began to crack and bow.

At first she feared to test her wings,

To trust in new and trembling things,

But sunlight called through prison bars,

"Come dance with us among the stars."

With careful steps and beating heart,

Holly began to come apart

From all the lies that held her bound,

And planted feet on solid ground.

Her thorns relaxed, no longer tight,

Her petals caught the morning light,

The force that crushed her, now grown weak,

Could not contain what chose to speak.

She bloomed in colors bright and wild,

Holly Briar, freedom's child,

Her roots ran deep, her branches high,

A living prayer against the sky.

Now children gather at her feet

To hear her story, bitter-sweet,

How sometimes we must grow our thorns

Before we see our brightest morns.

And Holly tells them, soft and low,

"The strongest flowers are those who know

That being held does not define

The beauty that was always thine."

In gardens where the free winds blow,

Where chosen flowers freely grow,

Lives Holly Briar, wild and true—

A testament that spring breaks through.