We sprouted fugitive from holes in the ground,
pushed through fertile soil,
like warrior weeds, no seed,
our roots foraged 'til they found
this plot we claim today,
when asked to change our creed, no need,
it is our loyal way.
Our branches stretch toward sun,
our skin blackened by toil,
we stored water beneath our tongue,
we welcomed the rains,
we followed the rivers course, and with it run,
we chose to follow our right brain,
never revealing our source,
or the place where we begun,
we've always been here, our choice
we are the indigenous one,
our roots vying for this space,
we stand our ground,
no longer on the run,
we douse libations on this place,
our place, under the sun,
as we praise, this sacred ground!
Victori ©
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