Without food to eat the Nopal grew from the desert street.
The defending itself with thorns
Lacking water to drink
Somehow it produced tunas to eat
Knowing that they would judge the Nopal
By the fruits He bare
He was still proud, it was rare.
I wrote the poem “Nopal “ based off a Sunday church service about being judged by the fruits we bare as “Christians”. I asked myself what kind of fruit do I bare? Then I came to the conclusion that although I do not bare a lot of fruit, I produce fruit grown in the baron desert like the Nopal produces tunas. Not in great quantities, but high quality in a land of limited food. I am a Nopal.