Poetry 1 min

Phototropism

Shriya Pawgi

(Im)Perfection in Phototropism

A weed reaching for sunlight,

From deep within the cracks,

Glowing a vibrant green,

Climbing above the stacks.

Its petals, a little crooked,

Vines, a bit too small,

Leaves are slightly too big,

And yet it continues its upward crawl.

Angry winds scream at it.

Birds whistle their doubts.

The rain pelts insults,

But the plant keeps reaching for the clouds.

The storm keeps echoing the jibes,

Floods threatening to make it drown,

Constant shadows of past mistakes,

Menacing ghosts forcing it down.

And yet the plant keeps going,

Craning its neck to see the sun,

Always reaching for sky,

Until its inner battle has finally been won.

The biting stings of the rain's lashes

Quiet down to gentle showers.

And finally, finally, from the lowly, fallacious weed,

There emerges a beautifully misshapen flower.

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