Mama, what happens to the seeds when they blow in the wind
Daughter, the seeds of our ancestors
As they blow left and write
They spread
They bring their knowledge of past gardens
They bring strength that they got from other flowers
They bring the feeling of being plucked from some harsh areas
They bring thoughts of words that tore them down in the past
Words that get down to the root and can continue to wreak havoc on our community
When they reach the soil, new life can be started
Fresh smells that permeate each area of the garden
They bring resistance against the elements
They bring resilience that they will grow
Rising up, coming together to make a beautiful bouquet
