A child walks without a name
Her eyes flashing unashamed
From one foot blooms springtime flowers
The other sets the ground aflame
Along a path she firmly strides
Her hands drift slowly at her sides
Behind her leaving life and death
Her path once narrow yet still wide
She is as firm as the sturdy stone
That blocks the only safe path known
It silently tells her be on her way
She will not break it on her own
The child looks with a gaze of steel
Rocking gently on her heels
No expression on her solemn face
To show a thought or feeling reveal
She reaches out a hand to touch
Fingers small and callused rough
And plants it there on silent rock
A statement though not seen as such
She taps it once and makes a spark
She taps it twice and gray turns dark
She taps it thrice and forms a crack
Too small to earn but brief remark
In her left hand she cups a seed
That from a prison cell she’d freed
And places gently in the rift of stone
The warning that it would not heed
And then a sprout begins to grow
Burrows into the rock below
Snaking through relentlessly
Not a shred of mercy left to show
Like winds that slowly break down years
Or waves that dwarf a single tear
New growth leaves empires fallen low
And begins the desperate hiss of fear
The crack is forced into a rift
That pulls the stone into a shift
Which shudders as it realizes
Slow is more merciful than swift
And as stone crumbles into dust
A budding tree with roots outthrust
Waves cheerfully a delicate branch
To the child to whom its life entrusts
Who passes by without a smile
Within her heart there is no guile
Despite the common parlance spoken
That is not rare in juveniles
Behind her bloom the flames and flowers
That stone destroy and hatred scour
The world must conform itself to her
This is her right; this is her power
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