I paced those same lanes, believing
they would make me feel as though
I belonged to them, but all they did
was lead my away, like they always
used to do.
Even back then, they were overgrown
with weeds, hiding me and
burning me at the same time,
but, oh how I wanted to lay down
in that beautiful meadow
of purple thistles.
I didn’t even feel the pain,
I just wanted the green of the ground
to reach my heart.
There was always that one path
that I didn’t dare take,
thinking back; perhaps
it was for the better.
I bloomed anyway, didn’t I?
Like a snow flower, I pierced
right up through that ice,
glowing untainted white,
even in all that sunless poverty.