Chapter 23
The Stem that Carries Us
I am the stalk that holds the weight above, bearing the heavy and the sweet of love. When weariness tries to bend me low at night, I think of them and find new strength and light. Tough and tall, I bear our world with grace, steady pillar in our gentle, golden space.
Straight from rough soil I pushed my way up high, thickening my stem beneath the open sky — built to hold the weight I never asked to bear, growing tough where thorns and sharp stones tear. There are faces all around, voices loud and near, yet I walk a path where no one draws too near; they smile and pass, they ask how I get by, but never see the weariness that dims my eye. By day I bend to feed, to mend, to guide, wrap green leaves round my little ones beside; when night falls soft and silence fills the room, I lean alone and let my own heart bloom. I carry every worry, every unpaid cost, every quiet dream I thought I might have lost — turn them into fibre, strength within my core, so nothing shakes the shelter I have swore. When storms roll in and heavy winds press hard, I hold my ground where no one comes to guard; I do not fall, though I may bow and sway, then lift my gold to catch the first warm ray. They see the bright bloom glowing in the sun, but not the lonely work that makes it done — how deep my roots go down to find their place, how I make light in every darkened space. This stem is mine, and it belongs to them too — strong enough for all we have to travel through. Surrounded, yet alone, I grow and I endure, sunflower heart, steadfast, alive, and sure.