Magnolia Blooms

Creative Writing: a poem

Mississippi raised me 
miles of dirt roads and porchlight prayers,
where the air hangs thick with old stories
and healing smells like late May, 
an early summer breeze swirling the scent of
magnolia blooms.

This is where young love finds me 
the safety of an old quilt and a long conversation 
the respite of laughter 
the calm to my chaotic life 
all beneath a canopy of 
magnolia blooms. 

I built forts out of fallen branches, 
and hid my heartbreak amidst the shiny leaves.
I learned early how to survive, 
keep the peace and placate 
under the dappled light of
magnolia blooms.

I watched the road ahead 
waiting for it to betray me,
tears traced my cheeks 
the salt turned to silence 
these backroads are haunted by 
ghosts, gravel, and 
magnolia blooms.

I’ve kissed in the shade of them, 
and screamed in their shadows,
I learned to say no like a prayer, 
and yes with the hope of resurrection 
love came with a search warrant 
and testified to my most faithful witness,
the
magnolia blooms.

I’ve been the one who left,
the one who stayed 
and then the one who came back
when the world shattered my stained glass hope
and the only thing that made sense were
magnolia blooms.

Yes, Mississippi raised me
with kindness and contradiction 
some nights I still drive just to feel free,
windows open, a deep breath melody—
the roads winding like a question 
bloomed with curious possibility 
watching, weeping, whispering 
always walking toward the light of
magnolia blooms.