Soul patch

I started with a small plot of land,

inherited it, really.

Before too long the soil became dry, cracked, brittle,

devoid of nutrients.

The surface became strewn with crushed beer cans,

long since drained,

the simple detritus of every day life.

Beneath the ragged crust worms churned and twisted,

seeking sustenance where there was none.

Seeds’ prayers for germination all went unanswered.

I started with a small plot of land,

battled it fiercely.

At times the sun beat down upon it,

the heat violent, unrelenting, without mercy

and nothing could find purchase.

Before long the frost came, savagery took root,

the hyenas’ cackles echoed throughout the night

until there was only surrender or fight.

I started with a small plot of land,

survived it, mostly.

With time, stubbornness punched itself out,

evil slowly acquiesced to goodness,

a dim light emerged.

Mercifully the aperture opened,

the soil got tilled,

new sources of water were found,

the unnecessary got thrown away.

Maybe, just maybe, something can grow here.