
I trace my name in the dust;
no need for softer hands than mine—
teach the soil to
forget the fallow time;
I bloom where I am planted,
water my roots with kindness,
honor my weeds for their resilience
and know—
this garden grows
from seeds of my own grace
About the Creator
Sara Little
Writer and high school English teacher seeking to empower and inspire young creatives, especially of the LGBTQIA+ community
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.