from dirt I come
whipped and cracked from the sun
rain flows and heals my wounds
when my fruit grows
I'll forget my troubles soon
still I love, still I rise,
giving blessings
to the the grass
I dry my own tears
and hide in my own fears.

nature is my mother
the moon is my brother
my father inhabits the sky
and he takes pleasure
in his little flower
that is me...
a brown rosebud
a baby from nothing
more than mud.