i am like a small bud
unfolding, gently
unsure
surrounded by the sweet smell
of the roses, fully blossomed
face towards the sun, shining
while i am in the shadow
too small, too weak, compared
not good enough
i try
i try and try again
to be like the others 
the roses that are the first 
the ones that get the thrill of another adventure
when the man comes
the man with the silver flag of liberation
the freedom that takes you away
longing for my own day
until i am the last one left
days on days
weeks on weeks
but then i change
and i emerge
strong and beautiful on my own
the sun shining on my face
and i see
i look and i see
the others 
brown and shriveled
like fallen revolutionaries
laying in the battlefield
while i am victorious
time 
has shown
that i am the last one
standing

Claire Y. Hong (2019)