Listen to poem:
The Lonely Weed
Pulled from rosy rows
rejection breeds persistence—
weeds not welcome here
pop up as lonely, unloved
sly, resilient pioneers.
Boots crush tender shoots,
hands rip out plants by their roots—
mother-of-millions
so fiercely fecund, unbowed,
endless their will to survive.
Weeds misnamed, misjudged,
grow through cracks in wasted ground—
jilted intruders
yearning simply to be seen,
impatience at the margins.
Lonely wily weeds
await unseen for any
opportunity
out on the periphery
to be, to see, and be seen.
The lonely weed—
a wallflower in the scene
a wallflower in the scene.
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