Little Brown Flowers In The Midst

There they were, lost in the Midst.

Beautiful flowers sowed in concrete,

Ejected by the habits of their father’s sins.

Childhood memories are bittersweet.

With a thousand words they describe my skin,

But the silence of their words cry from overruled sins.

My little Brown Flowers in the Midst.

There they were, alone in the Midst.

Bright stars radiated in vast obscurity.

Consumed by the lust of their mother’s secrets.

Nurtured to benefit society’s itch,

Snatched from security, it’s far from glitch.

My little Brown Flowers in the Midst.

There they were, afraid in the midst.

Warriors on the battlefield of fate.

A million acts today are shown to describe the hate.

Frightened by the minds of beasts who feed on them,

Inheriting the dusts of yesterday’s condemn.

My little Brown Flowers in the Midst.

There they were, segregated in the midst.

Goddess’ ruling in false kingdoms,

Revealing reigns against royal venoms.

Conditioned by ratified illusions.

Awakening to new dawns of rest,

Swaddled in faded cultivated crests.

My Little Brown Flowers in the Midst.

There they are, standing in the Midst.

Rebuilding birth, and preserving un-winged souls,

Trailblazers fighting against the forced roles.

From ameliorating shields, to protecting fields.

Regenerating roots to heal tomorrow's past,

While rejoicing to the creators vast.

My Little Brown Flowers in the Midst.

There they sow, rooted in the Midst.

Reaping the harvest of tomorrow’s fall,

While Quintessential to their call.

Forever guarding the wild’s chanting,

Promised visions inheriting our

Matriarchy’s marching.

Brown Flowers in the Midst.