We the Weeds

If I take my hands from the pulse to bury in the dirt,

I will be a weed weeding weeds,

Paying penance for colonizers' tagalongs;

A sorry attempt to reflower virgin lands

From Thieving Fathers' civilized rape.

With each sweep of the scythe or tonic of toxin,

I'll teach plants what people have yet to:

How to be here without sapping what is.

I'll do what it takes …