The sunlight burned into the concrete
A gray desert, barren and harsh
The air held its breath
Its throat too dry to cough wind
The soles of my feet recoiled from the temperature
Hopping from one foot to the other
Skidding over heat and cement combined in a marriage of desolation
When suddenly within blended gravel and sand
A crack
Long and thin
Extending like a winding river
As if even the ground couldn’t stand the summer heat
And snapped under its weight
Following the line with my toe
I stopped in my tracks at the sight
Of hope shone green
With a stem no wider than my pencil tip
And leaves open wide
Like arms awaiting the sun’s embrace
I know exactly where it is because I am there too
Small and weak and trembling
But there is strength in its ignorant courage
Beauty from adversity
Resilience
I sat down on the concrete
The hot cement scorching my thighs
But the plant was worth honoring
I admired its stupidity
Its audacity to think it could make it in such conditions
We are all the same in this
Our naivety to try for the impossible
To ignorantly trust in our individuality
But without this foolish tendency, where would we be?
Even the greatest oak began its journey as a seedling
There is no shame in trying too hard
No shame in believing too passionately
When stranded in seas of gray
We can all become a glimpse of green in the distance
A spot of salvation emerging from the horizon
YOU ARE READING
Tacenda
Poetrytacenda (n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence