I love the title for the sound of it and the idea of your growing (waxing) out from the dark night. Your words that portray your nights are pretty scary and leave much to my imagination. The last stanza is such a strong ending. There is a simplicity to this as I read it that reinforces strength coming out of hard times.

I envision the darkness of winter and the blossoms waxing into spring. A pruned tree blossoming white wears the touch of heal ... This is multilayered, Maria and invites one to contemplate, relate or seek affinities while entering the poem ... What I see is this tree be not so pruned with sin if its blossoms be waxing white - The inner acknowledging however black the darkness, light prevails ...*m.a

Like the pretty pitcher plant that sits there in all its glory but masking the death that awaits those that come to near! Nice!