Most farmers have roots sinking deep,
the soil, from generations,
learning sweat, and the songs,
of the earth,
rooted, embedded in the love,
of our mother,
Most women learn their roots,
their backbones, and body aches carrying,
horrible burdens, of other people’s sins,
producing love and children,
wanting the freedom, but always loving.
The first people, came out of the earth,
with so roots so deep,
they were launched into the sky,
but suffering for their strength,
brought low by jealousy,
by those refusing to hear,
refusing their beauty,
not wanting the encouragement,
of the earth.
Not listening to the music.
I wish there were another way,
to grow strong, without pain,
to ascend on wings, that never knew,
So we could experience the joy,
strength ruling as a king.
For now though,
you and I will be here,
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