The Bloom

The Bloom

Erinma E. Man

Jasmine do not take blooming lightly
They are
(Dare I say)
Stingy with their miracle
Evergreen
But silent as the stars
They know how to keep a secret

When they do reach their destined fullness
That bright bloom, an unceremonious unfolding
You can’t help but still your breath
In the presence of luminosity

Soft whites unfurl
Rich and quiet and alive
Mystery shirks a showy entrance

It is said
The first thing a child hears in the womb is her mother’s heart
Sound is the first medium
The first way of uncovering the grand, external unknown

There is a gripping secrecy about how life comes to be
The fecundity of darkness
The hum of God knitting toes
The hushed blossoming of petals

What is the sound of jasmine’s bloom?
What is the sound of mystery becoming?

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Erinma E. Man
Writer & Contemplative

Writer and contemplative in Los Angeles, California
This essay is featured in Ekstasis Issue 10 Print Edition

Photography by Sefa Tekin