Hostile storms
Searing winds
Shifting sands
Twinkling stars
Cooling scars
All witnesses
To my wars

I struggled
I pushed
I cleared
I rummaged
I fought
Uphill got
Peeped out


Thorny am I
Yet blooming
Fleshy hardy
Nurtured by
Martinets’ of
Nature thorny
Cactus am I


Hardy survivor
Unbroken spirit
A true warrior
Challenges met
And overcome
Hard taskmasters
Two- my parents


Nature nurture
Spawned reared
Roughed up
I am an indomitable

The world is full of cactus, but we don’t have to sit on it. – Will Foley 

Who wants to become a writer? And why? Because it’s the
answer to everything. To ”Why am I here?” To uselessness.
It’s the streaming reason for living. To note, to pin down,
to build up, to create, to be astonished at nothing, to cherish
the oddities, to let nothing go down the drain, to make
something, to make a great flower out of life, even if it’s a cactus.
Enid Bagnold
1889-1981, British Novelist, Playwright

(all pictures are from the internet- disclaimer)


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