Impatience fueled by guilt
Regretting what’s been done
Yet afraid to make a change
Choosing the miasma of certainty
Over the potential of becoming
A dandelion grows in the crack of concrete
Where little else is allowed to thrive
Kudzu vines blanket a roadside
Marred by disturbance, heavy metals, herbicides
The survivor wins the prize
Sore losers
Waiawi thickets
Spread by descendants of feral pigs
Brought from opposite sides of the vast ocean
Remote islands made of lava
For eons untouched by primates
Become our living canvas
Hopes and fears made flesh and leaf
“Haven’t we already done too much?”
Perhaps also, not enough?
Tyrannize our “property”
Sanctify the “wild”
Invasives are the shadow
Reflections of our schizophrenic ecology
So we smash the mirror
What is a century to an ‘Ōhi’a tree?
Plants never hurry,
Only humans.
When do we arrive?
And where?
