I beheld a little wildflower growing,
Where the feet of man had never trod.
It did not bloom for human eyes to see.
A beauty created and noticed by God.
Per adventure by accident I cut it down
While cutting briars, weeds, and such.
Yet it never grumbled or complained,
As often we humans do so much.
It grieved my heart to watch it die.
I wished somehow I could restore,
The beautiful wildflower lying there,
To the graceful position it had before.
Even though it withered in the sun,
As it lie there helpless on the ground.
It did not murmur or utter a word.
There was no cry or pitiful sound.
When my pain seems unbearable,
I’m tempted loudly to complain.
Then I remember that wildflower,
I silently too can bear this pain.