The Rose

It Means So Much More ...

My youngest daughter is a free spirit. She was born that way. Extremely sensitive and outgoing, she’s never met a stranger. Fiercely independent, love and compassion oozing from every pore, she was a Mama’s girl who delighted in hugs and testing the boundaries of every rule in the house.

When she turned eighteen, she decided she wanted a nose piercing and wanted me to go with her. “I want a tiny diamond chip, the head of a straight pin tiny —nothing else, Mom. No safety pins, hoops, or other flashy do-dads. You have my word.”

I could live with that.

Funny, I didn’t feel at all out of place at the tattoo parlor. As I waited for her, I suddenly made a decision of my own that afternoon …

At 46, this decision meant so much more to me than just a silly tattoo you could hardly see. It was a secret testament to my inner strength, a symbol of my belief that a wife isn’t a second class citizen, and it was tied with a ribbon of sweet new beginnings.

The Rose Tattoo  
by C.J. Heck

I got a tiny rose tattoo,
just an inch or so in size.
After years of deliberation,
my courage finally materialized.

I am the only person
who will ever know it's there,
unless, of course, I want them
to see it and then I‘ll share.

A tiny rose and nothing more
I chose to symbolize
a difficult and bumpy life,
so please don't criticize.

The branch behind, my long lifeline,
its thorns to show what's past.
The bud is for what's yet to come,
some peace and hope, at last.

The tiny rose is painted
deep red to show my passion.
Its petals soft and gently bloomed,
red for love, a celebration.

I have a tiny rose tattoo,
just an inch or so in size.
A tiny rose, that's all it is,
my whole life to symbolize.


[from the book, "Anatomy of a Poet" by C.J. Heck, at Amazon.com]

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