The Bright Little Plant is Me

I never considered myself much of a poet, so imagine my surprise when, out of the blue, I was tasked with writing a poem—in 20 minutes. No interaction with others—just me, myself, and I… and nature.

Impossible—that was the first word that rang jarringly loud in my head.

But whatever. Maybe I’ll just use this as an opportunity to meditate instead.

So I quiet down, look around, and start noticing things—things that usually go unnoticed.

The chirping of the birds, the feel of the breeze, the expansive sky, and maybe the sound of some insect here and there.

What should I write about?

And then one thing caught my eye—and suddenly, the words just came to me.

That day, I learned that I’m more creative than I thought.

For years, I’d always denied my creative streak, always saying I was more logical—more into math and facts than creativity.

But maybe… everyone has a creative side.

When the mind slows down. When it reconnects with nature—or maybe just with themselves.

It was a short 20-minute exercise, but it changed something in me.

Maybe it was acceptance.

Maybe it was peace.

I told myself I’d want to do this again—by myself—because it filled up an imaginary bar I didn’t even realize I had.

Creativity. Pride. A sense of self.

It’s been six months, and I haven’t repeated the exercise.

Maybe writing this now is the reminder I need—

That today might just be the day to quiet the mind, and let the words flow freely, just like they did that day…

Bright Little Plant

Green leaves shooting above concrete grounds,

A location you expect it least to be found

Resilience so subtle yet so loud

But it does not care what you think, cause being alive is enough

 

19 leaves this little plant have

With it’s main branch slightly thicker than a hair’s breadth

Wil you survive with necessity so scarce?

And it’s bright green leaves waved back at me, and I’ve just received an answer — to trust.