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.
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