Roots 

Born from a seed,

My foundation begins from well below.

I hold the earth in my feet

And expel the atmosphere from my lungs.

The wind and rain batter my soul,

But I remain strong, less a few dead leaves,

A haven to the needy and less fortunate,

And a shelter to the homeless.

Often neglected and abused,

But the dead wood is shed.

More powerful I grow,

And more useful I become.

Across the world my ancestors traveled,

Yet here my place remains,

A beacon to the lost

And a champion to the uncertain.