Chapter 11
Standing Tall Alone
No hand to lean, no arm to hold, just my roots and petals gold — steady where the breezes blow, complete enough to stand and grow.
No arm to lean on when the wind blows strong,
no voice beside me singing me along —
I learned to hold my own weight, stem and crown,
never to bow or let my spirit down.
They wonder how I rise without a hand,
how I remain so firm upon this land.
They do not see the roots I dug so deep,
or all the quiet tears I’ve had to weep.
I found my balance in the open space,
turned my face upward toward the sun’s warm grace.
No need for someone else to make me whole —
I hold my own heart, steady, brave, and whole.
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