The Gifts of Weeds

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Pull the weeds and clear the way for what we want and expect.
Pull the weeds so that they don't choke the life from the more fragile plants trying to stand tall and grow into an individual of strength and beauty. Taking one life to replace it with another--are they all the same and interchangeable? What defines a weed and what makes them less important or desirable than the rest? Maybe they aren't as flashy, or maybe they cannot provide nourishment. But do they deserve a moment of pause, of respect for sheer perseverance and sense of survivorship?
Do we pull the weeds because they are common? 
Why do we pull the weeds? 
And are they weeds by name but gifts in disguise, hiding in plain sight?
Pull the weeds that spread far and near because they don't fit into the grand scheme of the plan we have for this space?
Pull the weeds and toss them aside like so much rubbish with their way of infiltrating and their scraggly defiant arms and legs, the homeless that ramble our cities and grow through the cracks in the sidewalks or sometimes slip back into the crevices to disappear forever before we can pull them out and put them where they won't be seen. The odd weed growing in the midst of roses, unafraid to show itself even though it knows the risk is high that it will be culled as different or wrong or inappropriate. 
Pull the weeds like we pull out the gray strands of hair, or try to cover them up with colors or textures that are foreign to this space and moment. 
Pull the weeds and all life dies as they are the ones that can hold the earth in place by the side of a path on a journey moving faster than we imagined, or they shelter the tiny insect that needs a moment of protection. 
Pull the weeds off the face of Gaia and see only the 'pretty' of illusion as if all that is important is the image before us, not the seeing of the depths of soul in those that cling and try to survive against all odds. 
Pull the weeds and all we are left with is false image of conformity and those roots of illusion begin to decay sooner with each new generation, they fall apart and wither and become weaker for they are missing the workers and the holders of the core of existence, the community unseen and hidden and pulled away from the beautiful ones that desire the limelight and hog all the sunshine. 
Weeds are healers and light-bringers and the ones who cleanse by their very nature and offer themselves in profusion. Do we pull the weeds without awareness?
Pull the weeds and clear the way and toss them on a bonfire so their smoke can mask the reality of each moment.
We pull the weeds at our own cost as a community of diversity falls away and conformity degrades the soil until it can no longer support what we saw in our dreams because we were blind and held no grace toward those less endowed with the obvious. 
Yet pull the weeds, uproot them, and they will return for that is their nature. Poison them and remove them and we are destroying ourselves as well unless we bring awareness in and recognize their gifts, allow them a little space so they don't feel abandoned or feel as if they need to create a revolution to take over. 
Pull the so-called weeds and balance becomes more precarious as we deny the validity of each and every form of life, of each soul valued and worthy, unseeing of all beauty in Oneness.
Pull the weeds? Or gather the weeds gently and thank them for their offering, honor their relation and contribution, celebrate the gifts they share when we open our eyes and see with compassionate acceptance the diversity of all life.
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From the writing prompt "pull the weeds" via ClarityWorks
The photo was taken by the breeder of my dog Phoenix and is of his relations and the breeder's grand-daughters.