The Weed

The rock is cracked
Parched
Baked and broken
In the desolation
Marking the absence of life

In a crevice sits
A seed
Lonely
Waking
In the stillness of a cold
Desert Night

Some weeks later
It lies
Budding leaves bruised
Broken
Pushing at the unyielding
Stone

Grasping
Green tendrils
For a sliver of light
Just beyond reach

The weed tries
Again and again
Ripped and torn
Fresh growth crushed
Against a rocky womb

Such weeds die
Across the desert
They lie stillborn
Hidden
Buried before Birth

The weed pulses
Weakly
For life
Reaching blindly
Brokenly
For the light

In the desert
In an island of brown desolation
Suddenly
Triumphantly
A flash of green catches the sun