Rooted on the Wind

I am the sworn protector of all that I hold dear

if push should ever come to shove, I’ll still be standing here

and though you may not recognize this me that I’ve become:

I'll finish what I’ve started; I’ve only just begun.

To those who sit in judgment pretending that you care,

and all the trolls with empty souls, sent out to spread despair;

we adapt accordingly, going to great lengths

to draw upon our character and play upon our strengths.

Remember how the tiny wren sings her song so clear,

the way her notes hang in the air before they disappear?

Or how the slightest little seed can turn green into gold

when it lands on fertile ground, roots firmly taking hold?

I scatter words upon the wind into the stratosphere,

and raise my voice to amplify reminding all that I’m still here.

© Ginny Brannan 2019