Persistence

It's bigger now than last week.

Just a weed, just green,

but the concrete's splitting

where it pushes through.

I could kill it. I keep walking past it.

Day after day, the same crack,

the same green thing refusing

to accept that concrete

is the end of the story.

There's something I like about it,

something that won't stop growing

in a place that's supposed to be finished,

supposed to be sealed.

The crack gets wider. The root

doesn't apologize for it.

I stood there this morning, watching it,

and I thought: this is what it means

to have no choice but to break things open,

to have no choice but to insist,

to have no choice but to keep growing

even when everything says you shouldn't,

even when the world is concrete,

even when your only option is to crack it.

The weed doesn't look beautiful.

It just looks alive.

And I'm still not killing it.