Her Little Palm Tree
She looks at it.
It looks at her.
Like looking in a mirror.
Nature vs. Nurture.
She reclines her seat
As she watches the breeze
Whisk around the palms
And give ache in her feet.
The fighter stands strong
Through every rough storm.
The damage is done
And trunk is all worn.
But it still stays there,
With its roots in the ground.
Withstanding its battles
Never being knocked down.
She tries to stand up
Though it’s truly a fight.
Pushing down heavily
Though her body is light.
Through surgery and surgery,
Every scan there could be,
The scars of this woman
Form an everlasting beauty.
Branches have broken,
Some palms are brown,
Leaning slightly to the left,
But never falling down.
The tree survives through
Hurricanes again and again
Others around
Never make it to the end.
But because of her,
It sees faith in the world,
To fight the fight
Just for this girl.
And as her legs swell, arms thin,
Hair falls out, the journey ends,
She looks out her window
To see,
The strongest one out there,
Her little palm tree.
Though beaten and pushed,
Been trampled by fear,
The beautiful wonder is still standing here.