Blossoming

In the hush of early morning, nature breathes.
A hush not of stillness, but becoming –
Naples Zen Garden grows with the dew-touched peace,
Each frangipani tree whispering soft hallelujahs
As their blooms uncurl, pale pink and sun-kissed,
Like Prayers answered slowly, but fully.

The soil speaks, and I have learned to listen.
Bright yellow zucchini blossoms beam upward
As if they know joy is their birthright.
Dainty white strawberry flowers nod with promise,
While the fruit remains green-
Patience dressed in velvet potential.

Purple lavender spikes reach upward
Like tiny incense sticks,
An offering to the God who met me
In the dark nights, and didn’t let go.
Even the tomatoes and peppers
Still wear the green of promise, not yet ripe but fully alive.

The crucifix tree is bearing fruit now – first time ever.
It took root in a year of global pandemic,
Grew into the shape of a cross
After the Vatican wrote to me,
Pope Francis, himself, praying
For my own father by name: Joseph Michael Finnegan

Thanking me for my book:
“What Does Your Garden Grow.”
That was then. This is Easter.
And now the cross gives life,
Now it bears fruit. A resurrection,
Not just of the tree, but of me.

The century plant has bloomed.
After all these years, decades maybe-
A silent witness to all I’ve endured.
Now rising with an 8 foot spike,
Like a giant asparagus spear,
Laughing in the wind.

It blossoms once in a lifetime,
Just like this moment of ours.

For years, it stood still,
Gathering strength unseen-
Just like I did
Carrying the memories and ache,
Tending to the broken
Awaiting my own spring.

And now I see:
The fruit on the crucifix tree,
The towering century plant,
The work at Urban Meditation blooming.
The roots I watered in faith
Are yielding blossoms.

The Princess of Freedom has awakened.
Her voice is rising like morning birdsong
On a new YouTube wind.
She sings of healing,
Of Truth without shame,
Of wellness and community.

One woman rebuilt
Her skin, her spirit, her scholarship funds
With Grace pressed from grief
And Joy born from Justice.
Everything blossoms in time,
and now it is mine.

Mine is not a flashy harvest
But a holy one.
The kind born in silence,
Nurtured through prayer,
Grown under the stars,
When no one was watching.

So I tend it still:
Each petal, each leaf, each story,
Because I know what blossoms
In the garden
Is never separate from what blossoms
In the soul.

And I will keep blossoming,
As long as I am free.

Faith forged through fire, adversity’s claim,
A legacy born from struggle and name.
Essential Art, a beacon, took form,
In the storm of a pandemic’s norm.
Amid fracture and trial, you stood tall,
Rebuilding dreams despite it all.

The weight of grief, the flood’s cruel tide,
And the ache of watching loved ones collide
With frailty’s hand—but you didn’t yield.
Integrity served as your guiding shield.
From your father’s honor to WWII’s lore,
Scholarship seeds you sought to restore.

Then came a day—a memory to keep,
Of joy so pure, it stirred you deep.
A gathering of hearts, a table’s embrace,
Urban Meditation, a sacred space.
There, on your birthday, renewal took flight,
A gift to another, the future alight.

The checks you bestowed carried more than gold,
They carried the stories that never grow old:
Of courage and love, of rebuilding anew,
Of finding good people who carry you through.
Laughter and hope warmed the room that night,
As candles flickered with radiant light.

A birthday not of aging, but rebirth,
A celebration of purpose and worth.
To give back is to bloom in the soil of care,
And find blessings abundant, everywhere.
Through storms, you’ve learned what truly lasts—
The love we plant, the strength of our pasts.

Faith forged through adversity, now refined,
A thank-you to yourself, a heart aligned.
The year’s sweetest moment, a memory divine,
Of grace shared freely—a legacy’s shine.

Oh heart that beats within my chest,
I pause to thank you—my quiet guest.
For every step, though fraught with pain,
For battles fought, for losses gained.
You’ve walked the fire, you’ve braved the storm,
And kept my spirit whole, my soul warm.

When life was cruel and brought me low,
When tears fell fast, when hope ran slow,
You knelt in prayer, your will unbowed,
And found strength where none was allowed.
From those moments, stripped and bare,
You rose anew, a force so rare.

You taught me courage lives inside,
A strength no trial could ever hide.
Though fear may whisper, “It’s too much,”
You answered back with faith as such:
“I am more than the shadows claim,
A child of light, of love, of flame.”

Oh self, I thank you for standing tall,
For finding grace when I could fall.
You’ve held integrity close, in view,
A compass steady, a path so true.
You’ve stood for others, the voiceless crowd,
Their silent pleas—your actions loud.

For John, whose justice fuels my fire,
You brought me faith, you raised me higher.
To Father Jim, whose wisdom speaks,
You led me close in my soul’s peaks.
Their names, like seeds, in my heart grow,
Their legacy—my life’s bright glow.

In “What Does Your Garden Grow,” I penned,
The Spirit’s fruit, where trials end.
Through every “Godwink,” every sign,
You reminded me of love divine.
From my father’s passing, grief’s sharp sting,
You turned my mourning to blossoming.

And for the scholarships, pledged with care,
A tribute born from love’s deep prayer.
To give back, to plant seeds anew,
This, dear self, is the best of you.

The journey taught what words can’t frame,
That good endures, though evil maims.
Even if justice hides its face,
The righteous path is still the race.
For there’s a war, unseen yet clear,
But faith casts out the darkest fear.

To my faith, you’ve brought me near,
To whispers of a God who hears.
Each trial, each tear, has shaped this truth:
That light outlives the shadow’s tooth.
And though the road was scarred and steep,
Your steadfast steps my soul will keep.

So thank you, self, for being strong,
For knowing where the weak belong.
For fighting battles, unseen, unknown,
For making every trial your own.
For finding God in grief’s embrace,
And building gardens out of waste.

Oh heart within, my faithful guide,
Through darkest nights and shifting tides,
I thank you now, and every day,
For walking steadfast in God’s way.
For teaching me that love must reign,
And through it all, my faith sustains.

Yes, good will triumph, this I see,
If not in life, in eternity.
And every step, though hard to take,
Has led to truths that cannot break.
So here I stand, and here I bow,
To thank the me who lives here now.

With love, with pride, with deepest grace,
I see the light within your face.
And know, dear self, you’ve won the fight—
A beacon burning in the night.

In isolation’s deep and shadowed fold,
Where silence reigned and stories went untold,
A broken spirit found its healing grace,
In faith’s soft whisper, in the sacred space.

The world was still, the pandemic’s grasp so tight,
Yet in the stillness shone a guiding light.
Through walls of worry, faith began to blaze,
And from the ashes rose a hopeful gaze.

Caring hands with love’s unyielding strength,
Brought solace in the darkened length.
An elder’s plight, a storm’s fierce roar,
Tests of faith that opened new doors.

A mother’s pain, a locked-down world,
Where hope and hardship seamlessly swirled.
In those quiet, strained, and fragile days,
A divine vision lit my weary ways.

From every tear and every trial faced,
An inspiration gently graced.
A vision of care, a balm so pure,
To soothe the skin, to heal and to endure.

Through Urban Meditation’s open door,
On 5th Ave in Naples, my hopes would soar.
Or online, where dreams and faith align,
Essential Art Skin Care finds its shine.

Crafted with a spirit strong and true,
Each product born from trials and through.
A testament to faith’s enduring might,
That turned dark days into hopeful light.

In faith, I found my strength renewed,
In every challenge, purpose accrued.
Resilience built on trust divine,
Guided my hands, and made them shine.

So now these products tell a tale,
Of faith that prevails when all seems frail.
A journey of the soul, of skin and heart,
Where divine strength and hope impart.

For in adversity’s harsh and testing storm,
A life of faith and care takes form.
And through each struggle, doubt, and tear,
Faith’s ultimate power draws ever near