• 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. ♥