The Roots That Hold Me Up

I thought I was standing all alone.
Rooted in one place—
in the very spot where I had been planted—
I held my ground through the passing years.
Often lonely, yet learning to comfort myself,
silently and without a single day’s rest,
I believed I was growing,
standing all on my own.

And then,
after days of relentless wind and rain,
the roots I had buried deep and long forgotten
revealed themselves—
tangled and intertwined,
so intricately woven
that I could not tell
where they began or where they ended.

As I paused to reflect,
I realized that, just as those roots
firmly hold the tree in place,
so too have I been sustained—
by Mother’s unceasing prayers,
Father’s endless sacrifice,
the love and care of my brothers and sisters,
and the fragrances of Zion
that brings comfort and courage in times of trial.
All of these, woven together,
have made it possible for me to stand;
they have become the roots
that hold me up.