Pockets Full of Posies

by OfTheIronwilled

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fluttershy, Alternate Universe, Sad
Length: 1070

Fluttershy tries to find herself. [Poetry]

Something stirs in Fluttershy's chest. Something heavy and awful. Her skin crawls.

She needs to know why.

An experimental collection of poetry, written for the Pony Poetry Contest.

Published 2024-10-14 01:20:00 UTC
Last updated 2024-10-14 01:20:00 UTC

Cutie Mark

She sits with a smile
in that fresh new world called “ground”.
A blue flower blooms.

Rarity's Wings

Of morning dew and gossamer,
they glitter in the Icarus sun.
Colors bleed from them like summer,
they’re paper-thin, angel-spun.

Fluttershy watches
as her friend performs,
her eyes on those color-splotches,
and her smile transforms.

Because from the vision of those wings,
something buried long ago,
a feeling birthed from forgotten things,
an ache she’s come to know.

Why does Fluttershy feel this way?
Who’s to say?

Reformation

Fluttershy looks in the mirror
hoping to see a little clearer
some version of herself she doesn’t hate;
maybe then this hollowness will abate.

And as she stares into the reflection,
seeing every imperfection,
she’s struck with an image
of the changelings’ colorful new visage.

And like Rarity the unicorn
following her horn
to her destiny of a rock,
Fluttershy feels a shock.

She thinks of the Breezies’ blue flower,
and of love given power.
She thinks of her friends,
and finally her self-hatred ends.

She looks again in the mirror to see… something new:
Wings of petal-pink, jewel eyes of blue,
carapace yellow as a bee,
topped with two teal antennae.

She doesn’t know what she is but
she loves herself now no matter what.
Still, before this ends,
Fluttershy will have to tell her friends.

So she gathers them all
In Twilight’s great hall
and shows them her new self;
Twilight, of course, goes to the bookshelf.

Rainbow Dash says, “Fluttershy, that’s so cool!”
and Fluttershy feels a bit like a fool,
as all of them, Rarity, Pinkie, Applejack,
each has her back.

How could she have doubted them?
Thought that they would ever condemn
the real her?
Foolish thoughts, that’s all they were.

Eventually Twilight comes out from her nook,
held in her hoof a very old book;
hidden there amongst the pages was a tome,
detailing what used to be the Flutter Ponies’ home:

Flutter Valley.

What Remains of Flutter Valley

All of them, including Discord, travel there in a flash,
holding Fluttershy tight.
At once, they notice the ash,
the clouds obscuring the night.
No fields of emerald green,
or glittering gems of honey-amber sun,
just the oily sheen
of tar on the grass; no sign of anyone.

Fluttershy can’t help it:
she yells ‘till her voice is hoarse,
searching for a soul amidst the gray grit.
(But nopony comes, of course.)

They do find, in a glade
of sunrays piercing through the silt,
a pocket of gentle warm shade,
a place where a nest of some kind was built.

There in the golden patch,
hidden behind a gnarl of gorse,
a bed of turquoise petals, a flower that can hatch,
a floral crib the size of a small horse.

“It’s the only thing left,”
one of them mutters.
Fluttershy, bereft
of spirit, stutters.

She leans into Discord’s touch,
as he curls around her,
holds him tight as a crutch,
as her vision starts to blur.

But in the honeyrays
of Celestia’s golden light
she catches a blaze
of sun glinting off her hoof amidst the blight.

She looks at herself once more,
gazes at the beautiful shell,
and allows herself to feel a glow in her core:
No longer is her body a Hell.

She knows who she is.

She has answers.

And her soul, at once, is aligned.

CHANGELINGS

Can the other’s feel it?
Heaviness in the chest,
a feeling like you’re
not yourself?
Guessing and second-guessing,
ever-wondering,
lost?
I feel that way
now
gaping at those
swarming monsters.

Looking in the Mirror Following "Bats!"

That thing in the glass
is more than just a fruit bat.
What have I become?

Breezie Flower

Come drift with me and be my friend,
wander to home, Breezie Hollow:
purest water and fields to tend.
All you need to do is follow.

Together we will reunite
with family not seen in a
fortnight; we’ll laugh and play tonight!
How sad that you must go soon, huh?

Take this flower of earth and dew,
blue as your eyes, sweet as nectar.
May it forever be with you,
our oh-so dear, sweet protector!

May it remind you of our trip
through those harsh winds, as well as this:
We shall always feel a kinship!
Now off we go to our earned bliss.

"Fluttershy"

This body is not mine.
It never has been.
My flesh and soul do not align.

My whole life has been a sign,
a quiet Tartarus to live in.
This body is not mine.

I look to the skyline
And think of what I really am within.
My flesh and soul do not align.

I must be a changeling who lacks a spine,
forever living in another’s skin;
this body is not mine.

Or maybe something less equine,
not at all of pony kin?
My flesh and soul do not align.

This idea, “myself”, I can’t define
except to say: I am broken.
This body is not mine.
My flesh and soul do not align.

Illustration of an Ancestral Home

Flutter Valley: a grand flower kingdom
of blues and pinks and floral scents, teeming
with life; bury the seed, and from that sprout
may come the beauty of foal’s breath come morn’.

Water as clear as crystal ice, flowing
between such lush pastures: lilies, poppies
and roses too. Pink mountain caps looming
above like coral earthen walls, so strong.

And there, the queen, Rosedust, overlooking
castles of petals and sweet morning dew,
shiny horseshoe grasping such blessed seeds,
singing the magic song to grow her home.

(And Fluttershy to herself thinks: yellow
and pink body, like mine, like me, oh gosh.)

The sunlight dies on the next page, shadows
of ink overtaking the bright blue hues,
purple and black. Then, bracken shielding them
from the oncoming storm. Then, nothing else.

Blank.

Questions for the Shy Parents

What must they have thought
of that tiny bundle
a gift wrapped in petals and leaf mold
down there helpless on the ground
cold
alone
and crying?

And didn't they think
one day
that she might
want to know
the truth?

If Fluttershy weren’t so angry
she would ask.

But she can’t breathe
and she’s
quite frankly
peeved.

So she doesn’t.

Not yet.

Some Sort of Contentment

The anguish eases.
Fluttershy looks to her friends
and finds her true self.