Sunshine. Blooming flowers.
I plant my bare feet
in the wet soil and grow.
I reach for the sky--
a new life springing forth inside.
Eliot whispering, "weave the
sunlight in your hair..."
My arms are the branches of trees.
And my fingers are leaves.
Toes become roots digging deeper
Into the ground.
I am planted in this new land--
Life without innate sadness.
I am alive -- Though I falter,
Sway in the breeze.
In a storm, I rock, the gusts
Of terror and fear shaking me,
But still I stand.
And nothing can knock me down now,
I have made my roots deep.
No comments:
Post a Comment