I am My Garden

There in the corner

residing against the fence

Never wanting to get in the way

but also desperately desiring to be noticed

 

There I am

in all my reality

tilled, broken, bleak

not seemingly good for much

just a plowed pile of dirt

 

I am my garden

small, weak seedlings

slowly emerging towards the sun

 

This is me

spindly, awkward

unsure if I can really make it

If I can ever grow into anything more than a seeming weed

 

Those seedlings you witnessed

are my hope, my love, my perseverance

those fragile little entities

are all that there is to me

 

I can’t make myself grow

but it’s so scary to stand tall and vulnerable,

waiting, hoping to gain another centimeter

eventually another inch

So one day

I can be strong and lovely

just like that garden

over there in the corner

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