Green Against the Gray

A single sprout wedged tight

between slabs that don’t want it there—

this crack a scar in the sidewalk's skin,

a place no one meant to live.

After rain, the green pushed hard,

not polite, not waiting for permission.

Roots clawing down, crooked and raw,

breaking pavement in slow revolt.

It doesn’t ask for your care,

just bursts up stubborn and loud

against the dull grind of concrete,

a fist raised quietly but firmly.

I watch it and remember

how even the smallest life

can unravel cold stone,

and maybe that’s enough to keep breathing.