-What does it take to be accepted...-

At night,
the yard is quiet,
hostility, asleep,
so I finally allow myself
to be free under the cold sky.

But my days...
they are filled
with silent fights,
fervor, forbearance,
as I cover pain
with my comely colors,
showing natural elegance
and whatever is expected
from an exotic plant
with an uncertain future.

I find myself here,
on this land,
where you, the gardener
may call me invasive and
decide to exterminate me.

From a clouded corner
I watch my neighbors and think
"I'm so unlike them".

How much inner beauty
skill and scent
do I have to give
to earn the right to live?

Do they belong in this place?
Are they native
because they arrived years before me,
or many centuries ago?

I think I sense the truth:
when native species
drop mulch,
fix nitrogen,
attract pollinators,
create shade,
it's called
"beneficial".

But when an exotic
does exactly the same,
it's labeled
"ecosystem disruption".

And I know I have to pay,
display
beauty and perfection,
a low-key self-assertion
to deserve my place,
to win the soil and space,
in my cautious gardener's
calculating heart.