“Stay Out!”, they said and I said “Me? I see that what you’ve got over there, past this gate is just the same as what is over here.”
And you’ve put a lock on this see through, open spaced series of bars. Is that supposed to stop me? Does it stop the winds of change from coming and receding? Does it stop the forces of life that keep on bleeding? Does it stop the weeds from growing?
No it does not.
Can I put my arm right through and wiggle my fingers in your breeze just as easily as in the breeze that blows on my side? Indeed I can. So I see your lock, your bars, your attempt to define, lay claim and stop me, and I pass right through. Yes I can.
My sister the tumbleweed took a more athletic approach. She jumped, she soared, she bounced and passed over your gate. And yes, she left behind a piece of herself. She left behind a little marker to wave at all who might want to follow her mad jump into the forbidden. She waves them on and says, “Yes! Go for it!”
In the pause of her tumbling laughter she says, “I left a branch of hope behind to remind you to take the risk. You see, I bounced up and over and then I tumbled into the space they did not want me to go. I giggled as I rocked and rolled and I left seeds along the way so that my children can be in this place and the gate will have no meaning.”
To bar a weed from a place is fruitless. A bit silly even.
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.
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