the flower

The sidewalk was barren, cracked,
concrete forgotten by time. Yet in
the shade of a tree, near a rust
stained edge, a negligible sprout broke
through, her cotyledon unfurling on a
delicate stem.

Seemingly similar to the weeds that grew
along the ragged and worn edge of the path,
she was overlooked at first. Though as she
grew in stature and stance, the shoot
garnered more than a passing glance.

One leaf, then two, the seedling showed
determination despite her unlikely
location. Pedestrians took notice now, in
wonder of her life. Uncertain how she arrived
they presumed she would find the strength
to survive. And so she did.

In time a bud emerged among the petiole,
burgeoning forth with unexpected force.
in parallel symphony, the roots urged back
the failing conglomerate walkway, and the
rich soil in which she was rooted was revealed.

This story isn’t over, her blossom is only now
dawning. Yet for this flower growing in the
crack of the sidewalk, there is hope in fertile
soil at my feet. 

Brian Miller challenged us to wax poetic about history, our own or otherwise this week at dVerse
"A flower in the crack of a sidewalk," is a phrase a dear friend has used to describe the peculiarity of my life story, one that I've attempted to surmise in this stanzas above. Enjoy!


Claudia said...

wow...what a great metaphor to describe your story, to describe how strong life is and how it buds and blooms on the most meager ground..

Brian Miller said...

this story is not over...that is the strong point to me...smiles...and i love the metaphor over all...tupac wrote a great poem, the rose that grew from the concrete...made me think of this...