Roots
My roots are
Grounded in
Generations of women
Readying the battlefield.
Women who were
Hurt
Abused
And those same women who
Rose and
Grew.
My stem supported by
Mothers and
Grandmothers.
The same women who would
Drop anything
To save everything.
By women sitting on the
Sills of closed windows,
And women of the past who
Ran away.
My leaves are sheltered by
Strong women who
Fight for their family’s
Name.
By women who put up with
Injustice and prejudice
So their children may
Live a better life than
Them.
By women who throw themselves into
A new world with no
Knowledge of even the
Language or
Culture.
My petals are painted by
My grandmother’s delicate paintbrush.
Adjusting pigment and
Adding water.
Diluting the tones
And always making sure the image
Is strong
And understood.
Doctors, lawyers,
Activists
And an almost architect.
Painters and nurses and
Engineers and
Stay at home mothers.
All powerful.
All strong.
All helping me
Grow into
What I am meant
To become.
