Mushki

Mushki is the hardiest of plants
That grows and grows, though not for joy
That grows out of leached and bitter soils,
No place for such a purity as she and yet, still
She laughs! In the breeze and holds tight with her roots
In a flash storm, and revels in the light of the after rain.

If leaves could be blessed with the shade of the undertree
To stretch and capture and drink up the shadows
She wouldn’t, for fear
And though dewy dots wink on the brim of a petal
What freshens and renews is one day cause for her tears.

Have you seen the greenery content before?
Have you seen how it stands, a veritable monument
In its own right, how its stalks stood at attention—
To think that one day it would fall.

She laughs at her roots and disdains her display
For the hardiest of plants, most bafflingly,
believe themselves in deepest decay.