We were stumbling
trudging fudging
falling
through the open sesame springtime
weeds come up with their wisdom
of the world below
hold on, grasping gasping
chokehold on their world before
do we tug hard enough,
or do they finally give up?
"Belonging" is only a relative term
We all belong to something
our hearts, our bodies
are bound by expectations
Do we live to function
or function to live?
Every weed has its own
greater good.