No, sorry. This is not a tribute to Kermit the Frog, though he certainly deserves it. This is about me and good ol' chlorophyll. I have found that some of the best metaphors for what I am going through in life can be found in plants. Everything is cyclical in nature, but random, too. Maybe you'll get stepped on by a toddler's unsteady foot; maybe that cute bumblebee will come over to you and choose to spread your pollen; or maybe you'll get picked by a girl who wants to put you in a vase on her shelf. Whatever it is, whatever happens, plants are resilient! Each winter they die a little death, and come back full force in the spring. No chubby baby foot will keep grass down for long. Picking a flower will never kill a plant (although, I do not believe we should be picking flowers, period- a story for another day). They're so simple, yet we are so like them. (I'm not calling humans simple, calm down).
So here, in wintry Chicago, away from many of my loved ones, I write about my life as a plant.
~Natural Selection~
There was a time when my
leaves required stakes and
trellises to climb upon
to wind about
When I could only exist within
a greenhouse-
filtered light, moisture control
and a steady diet to
keep me whole.
There was a time when my
flowers couldn't bloom without
your sun,
when your blowing wind
shook me to the core
and froze me down to my
roots, leaving them
stretched and searching
for warmth
There was a time when I
could not fathom leaving my
lovely plot of earth,
when happiness was staying
in one place- saying "good morning"
to the daisies and "good evening"
to the lilies each day,
shaking off my early dawn dew
and folding up into myself
each nightfall.
There was a time when all of this
was enough, when I could
find sense in preening for you
and occupying myself until
you shone on me- spilling
your rays like a thousand
crystals.
Alas, for survival's sake, I have
changed.
When I could not reach your light,
my stem became sturdier
When the wind blew too fiercely,
my leaves became hardier
When I was parched and water scarce,
my delicate roots hardened
and took solace where they could-
making friends with the earthworms
and resigned to the dry cracked earth.
Some say I'm no longer
quite the color or shape I was-
could I be a new species
altogether?
Perhaps I've abandoned my green
sheath for flight from this place.
Only the sparrow and thrush
may know- they have heard
tell of the strange thing
deep in the forest
grown wet with the heavy rain
and wild like the solitary orchid's
path.
~P.Desai
p.s. just in case you need some comic relief, or just really dig sesame street like I do, check out this awesome clip! Makes me laugh every time =)
Cookie Monster
So here, in wintry Chicago, away from many of my loved ones, I write about my life as a plant.
~Natural Selection~
There was a time when my
leaves required stakes and
trellises to climb upon
to wind about
When I could only exist within
a greenhouse-
filtered light, moisture control
and a steady diet to
keep me whole.
There was a time when my
flowers couldn't bloom without
your sun,
when your blowing wind
shook me to the core
and froze me down to my
roots, leaving them
stretched and searching
for warmth
There was a time when I
could not fathom leaving my
lovely plot of earth,
when happiness was staying
in one place- saying "good morning"
to the daisies and "good evening"
to the lilies each day,
shaking off my early dawn dew
and folding up into myself
each nightfall.
There was a time when all of this
was enough, when I could
find sense in preening for you
and occupying myself until
you shone on me- spilling
your rays like a thousand
crystals.
Alas, for survival's sake, I have
changed.
When I could not reach your light,
my stem became sturdier
When the wind blew too fiercely,
my leaves became hardier
When I was parched and water scarce,
my delicate roots hardened
and took solace where they could-
making friends with the earthworms
and resigned to the dry cracked earth.
Some say I'm no longer
quite the color or shape I was-
could I be a new species
altogether?
Perhaps I've abandoned my green
sheath for flight from this place.
Only the sparrow and thrush
may know- they have heard
tell of the strange thing
deep in the forest
grown wet with the heavy rain
and wild like the solitary orchid's
path.
~P.Desai
(Washington D.C., 2005, P.Desai)
p.s. just in case you need some comic relief, or just really dig sesame street like I do, check out this awesome clip! Makes me laugh every time =)
Cookie Monster
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