If I were a seed,
breaking the brittle walls
of my dying shell,
I would brave the darkness
for the light calling my name.

If I were a sprout
I’d reach my flimsy leaves
up to the sky and
sing my songs of thanks for
the life-giving rain.

If I were a tree,
solid and stoic, rooted in
Mother Earth’s flesh,
I would stand fearless through
the fiercest storms, unswayed.

But I am only human,
cowering in darkness,
hiding from the storm in shame,
praying someday that
I’ll become strong again.