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Last week at Saturday Soul, David Morin shared a poem that had the whole room in their feels. So many people asked me for the poem that I wanted to share it here.

It’s all about how pain doesn’t make beauty any less beautiful. It could actually be a part of the beauty. That thorns and petals are not opposites. They belong to the same flower and that tears aren’t proof of weakness, but of blooming.

Text below, and the video is here.

Pockets of Joy 🌹

by David Morin

I was looking at a rose in my backyard.
In that moment, a petal fell to the ground.
It drifted so elegantly without a sound.

It made me wonder—
does a petal know when it falls from the flower?
Does it count the days until its last hour?

Does the rose feel part
of its beauty die?
Do the thorns celebrate,
or do they cry?

Maybe they exist to balance out the beauty—
protecting its growth,
its sole duty.

Thorns are in a rose
when just a seed.
The pain there from the start—
a promise will bleed.

Before reaching for a rose,
we pause
to find a clear space.
The fear of pain
fills us with intentions
of grace.

How else do we see a rose
in all of its glory?
A reminder to stop
before assuming the entire story.

I once thought thorns were a symbol of pain.
How could something so beautiful
have so many stains?

Will the flower still be a flower
if it never rains?

You know…
I think the entire garden weeps
when a petal falls.
Its roots tremble,
and pain roars within its walls.

A part of its beauty
fading slowly into the dirt—
the missing petal
forever a space for hurt.

You know…
I think all along
the thorns were just playing coy.
Those pricks bring us
pockets of joy.

I wonder if we’ve been looking at pain
all wrong.

Maybe tears are the reason
we bloom
all along.

I’m learning the difference
between love and loss—
one’s deeper than the other,
but they come at the same cost.

To open your heart
is to allow it to bleed—
to let it get bruised,
yet still trust it to lead.

You are on the path
to becoming who you are.
You will find you,
no matter how hard.

Listen to your silence—
and all you cannot bear.
Lean into your shame
and find your stare
gazing into what you will become.

You are all of you,
even when you are undone.
Unravel into perfection—
and see how two
equals one.

Take a long, slow, deep breath in…

What would it feel like to be loved fully right now?
What would I want to hear?
What would I want to feel?

Exhale.