Just like roots that travailed in dirt.
It started from somewhere.
From the seed that was planted.
From rough terrain of hard-core struggles.
It persevered with determination and
strength, to never give up.
It took time to dig deep into the soil
and run its course, blind and uncertain.
But the fruit of its labor is produced
at the top. That’s us.
As we struggle as we bend, and toil
in the quiet rooms, burning the
midnight oil. Sleepless nights not to be seen.
We are the seed that was planted in tough
surroundings, tough situations to shine.
We came from that same soil that
nurtured us to fight and grow.
We kept our mouths shut, as we did the work.
Our roots blinded, no direction.
The gravity held us down,
in the soil just for a while.
We are not ready yet.
Like roots we didn’t give up.
We didn’t lose focus.
We spread our branches and looked up.
