Growth Against the Grain

Concrete cracks, a wound in gray,

a sprout, bruised but relentless.

Leaves curl like fists against the sky,

where no one wanted green to survive.

The city’s cold slab, cracked and indifferent,

holds a stubborn blade reaching for light.

Roots threading like secret prayers,

breaking rules with silent insistence.

No garden here, only scars,

and still it grows,

a stubborn thread in the suffocating weave,

a single breath that won’t be tamed.