The Barb
The Barb

The barb hung over my head, taunting me. With points dipped in sharp insults it threatened to puncture me, to wound my self esteem, to stop me in my tracks. It loomed larger and larger, and I was powerless to stop it. All I could see was the pain and so I gave it more strength that throbbed and grew and grew, enough to overpower me. Please weed, move away from this spot, free me! I do not want to be hounded and circled by your taunts and teasing, by your bullying. I do not want to be hooked on despair.

What I need to break this black spell is a breeze to snatch my attention away from the tumbled weed thorn that presents itself so dangerous, so threatening, so fierce. If I could look away for just a moment I might be spared. I could break the connection and no more fiery current would flow between me and my oppressor. Is that poss…?

Finally !  A breeze! A breeze that shakes the tumbleweed in front of me and makes a rattling sound that calls me to my senses. I shake my head in time with the shaking of the dried weed and I am shocked. I come to my senses and finally see what is in front of me. There are thorns, yes, that is certain. But they are small and if I push against them  hard enough, they will bend or break off and fall to the earth, useless.

What’s more, how did I not see the fairy tale seed dangling from the crook of two thorns? How did I not see the hope that was right in front of me? Perhaps the tumbleweed wanted to grab onto some goodness, just like me, and so it plucked a wish from the air. I am bigger than the darkness; I can see the goodness there. The danger passes and the threat falls apart.

Please come back tomorrow for a new “Weed Image of the Day” and let me know which ones you like.

We and our weeds are so much more than what we first appear to be.

Unauthorized use, distribution and/or duplication of any of this material without the express written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited.

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