Little by Slow

I stepped on the cactus when? Two, three years ago?
I backed over it, my foot covering the whole plant
without even feeling it there. A weed to begin with,
tiny, insignificant, only of value for tenacity in springing up
it lay crushed, ruined.
But it stood up again, clung to its tiny footprint in gravel,
and fought. I saw it today, mid-calf to me, holding its own.
Little by slow it recovered, past what could be imagined
as a diminutive replica of a plant. Little by slow it claimed ground
saying, "This is my spot, where I belong. It is my home
where little by slow I am becoming something worthy, beautiful,
at home and at peace, serene, ready to thrive."