Today, amidst scorn, I wept.
And when the last jeer was dealt,
I opened my mouth.
And behold, praise!
Oceans of praise pouring out.
I am the desert flower that bloomed.
Pushing up against sand and death.
Growing the earth with plentiful cries.
Although I fear I have nothing left.
The days of Israel’s prophets and kings have long past.
Yet, are possible even now.
For fruits of justice and fearlessness do arise
When mothers’ tears (my tears) become as seeds in the ground.
