Cactus

The light was golden and low, casting long shadows on the earth when I met this Joshua tree. It looked like it was dancing, or maybe reaching — not perfectly, but wholly. Its twisted form felt like resilience embodied.

Cacti don’t ask for much. They hold their water close, protect their softest parts, and thrive in places most things can’t. They remind me that beauty doesn’t always look soft. That growth can be strange, asymmetrical, and still deeply sacred.

In the story this image tells, I see the poetry of survival — the kind that doesn’t need to be loud to be profound.