My nan died in 2005
And I inherited a money plant,
The last living possession
That she had,
And I have treasured it,

Yet despite my care
It was burned by the sun
And almost died,
Reduced from ten inches
Of shiny green health
To a stub from which
The last two leaves dropped,

Dead

But I changed the soil
And replanted those leaves,
Pressing them into the
Moist fresh dark compost,

And slowly,
Banned from interference
By those who revile me,
Those precious leaves
Have rooted,

They stand now upon a tiny stem,
Lifting themselves off the dirt
A shiny new leaf forming,
Determined to stretch skyward

And so with us.
We may be tired and weary,
Fed up with the war,
The rows,

But we have in fact
Changed OUR soil,
This compost is nutritious,
Supportive and healthy,

We can grow in this,
Love is enough because
It has all the good it needs,
The bad has been cut away

I get that your fingers
Are not green,
I feel your weariness,
So lean on me while

I continue weeding,
And soon and very soon,
We will reap a bumper crop
Of all we each deserve