sinac
“What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
the sun has returned and i am weeding
in the softened driveway. which is to say,
i am punishing resilience.
for daring to find purchase without permission,
for thriving between rocks and hard places, like
tents by the river, blankets in a concrete stairwell,
or three plastic totes waiting in a thicket of trees
just off the highway.
have we always been this way to each other? unconvinced by miracles?
building a fence between sweet dreams and nightmares,
then adding a tollbooth.
why pry out, yank up and fling away
when we could cup careful palms
around thorny stems, study the stardust
in their wrinkled leaves.
lean closer to listen for the secrets
that only survival against all odds
can reveal?
Thanks for reading. Please clap, follow me or enjoy another poem.
🐝 beth
