Grey Rock

A small seed
fell into a crevice
of the grey rock
and sprouted,
forcing hair-thin roots into the depths,
reaching for sustenance.

I'd lived so long
sheltered by the grey rock,
cradled in its confusion,
learning to survive on deprivation,
I almost didn't hear
the thin disturbing sound
that pierced the dreary walls
of desolation.

It was as if
that wisp of green
had whispered,
had said to me,
"You must reach out to life
to live completely."

Crushed by fear and clenched in anger,
so self-divided I could only stare,
I chewed a bitter fantasy
of exposing hungry roots
to empty air.

But indifferent of my fierce regard
tiny leaves stretched up to catch each glint of sunlight
as fragile roots pressed down through lifeless dust
to distill a meager nourishment
out of paucity, pollution, negligence, and waste
till slowly, day by day,
the seedling gathered strength.

And day by day, with growing admiration,
I felt drawn beyond my wizened vision of my self
until I almost dared believe
there could be joy in living
there could be vibrancy and health.

But I couldn't free myself
                 of doubt and fear
until a sudden sound
thrust hope into my heart:

I heard
the roots of that small tree
     split
            the rock
                          apart!