Poetry Power: “weeds”

The Olympian shares this poem by junior Maddie Newman. “A little while ago I found these two old hotel key cards in my jacket pocket; I didn’t know what to do with them. That weird feeling is what inspired this poem, even though it’s only mentioned briefly,” they said. “This is an attempt to express my feelings over the recent loss of human connection.”

weeds

cracks throughout the day

weeds grow between

when i start to pull

the concrete lurches

the depth of their roots scare me

i leave them

with these bloody hands

disfigure them to be roses

as they once were

i spot them in unusual places

they sprout up within conversation

my newly-found green thumb scrolls through photos

and finds hotel keycards

in forgotten jacket pockets

water underground,

leftover from the rain and warm hands

nourishment for the weeds

a watering can is dropped

a puddle forms

i look down,

and see a gardener within

they look back

examining closer, these weeds

may be holding the sidewalk together

the plausibility cements me to the ground

i leave the task of navigating the complex root system

for another day

are they growing?