I wrote this shortly after peeling one of our regular Street People off of Broad Street and finding a little flower crushed beneath him…
Green tendrils of life push through the cracks in the cement, and reach for the sky, oblivious of the litter and broken glass surrounding it.
Somehow it thrives, and avoids being trampled by the hundreds of footsteps that barely miss it.
It cannot control what goes on around it, only nurture what happens within.
I keep an eye on it as it grows.
and realize . . .
we are that fragile growth, reaching for the sky,
filled with potential, but surrounded by litter and broken glass.
we move, and breathe, and connect with the people whose lives cross our path
and continue to reach for the sky,
so that we are not crushed by the weight of the world that surrounds us..