With roots in blood and mire
It rose above the city sky
Shouting profanities at the unforgiving night
Blooming and floating in beds unfamiliar
Kissing the surface which reflects the shadow that It was
Possessing delicacy itself without the thorns of a rose
A silent sun with arms outstretched
It was a throne from which she reigned
A goddess to her own devices
Hands planted in the heart of political unrest
Head suspended in tangled weeds and grass stained knees
Remove the mud from your eyes
And bathe in the shade of the willow
Lay down Lotus Child