Another old poem

[violetcheetah]

Meh, this one doesn't really work for me. The thing is, I think about it all the time, when I see wildflowers growing in places where no self-respecting plant should grow. I guess the poem is like a 70s pop-song earworm; I'm embarrassed to find myself reciting it, but I can't get it out of my head. Maybe some day I'll figure out how to remix it into something more satisfying, but for now, it's what I've got.

The email file says I sent it February 13, 1996, 3:12 a.m.

-----

City weeds

We grow
in the cracks of the sidewalk;
we come up
between the railroad rails.
Through the mortar
in the brick wall:
look anywhere,
we'll be there.

We dance in our own glory,
enthralled by our perfection.
Winds of winter
never hurt us.
Your cold stares
never hurt us.

You pull us
from between your roses;
you throw us
into the street.
We're crushed
by the wheels of a taxi,
seeds strewn
two blocks away.

You think that we are ugly,
that our chaos undermines you.
You're afraid
of our power,
our unassuming,
boundless power.

In the spring,
our quickened bodies
thrust our flowers
at the sky.
A slip of sun
will serve our purpose,
all we need
to survive.

Even you would find us stunning
if you saw us at this moment,
if you weren't
too busy running,
if you weren't
too busy planning

to destroy us
while we simply grow.