I am a weed.
The wind blew my seed to soil.
And I reached out my stems to sun.
They did not grow me on purpose.

My roots just clung themselves down
To the deepest parts of the dirt
So I could stay grounded
Through the hacking and pulling
The gardening, the weeding--

I am a weed.
My wild roots know the deeper wells.
And I am not ugly or stubborn,
I am a wild flower.

Sometimes my petals bloom wide
--I take up all of my space.
Sometimes I let the wind pick up
My thoughts, my seeds,
To spread them wild--

I am a weed.
Leaves open to the sun
Leave me open to the rain
I will dance against the wind.
And when you pick at me,
And chop me down,
I will grow again.

I will be stronger.


#NaPoWriMo [4/9/16]