• in defense of my overgrown weeds •

a haiku collection

Today I stared as

my parents tore the weeds from

our backyard garden

Flowers are long dead

this time of year but the weeds

remain, silently

Resilient to rain

stubborn in the scorching sun

firm against nature

The weeds do not wilt

under the scrutiny of

dismissive people

The weeds know their worth

as medicine and vessels

for all the many

wistful whispered hopes

‘he loves me. he loves me not.’

our wishes are theirs

No, I do not want

to be like our red tulips

long dead from the cold

I wish to become

like the overgrown weeds in

my small dirt garden

– s.k. ♥