Dwarf,  feeble, 
insecure and vulnerable, 
suppressed and injured by every passer-by.
Dies every day by  draught, 
flood and even in sunny day.

The misery of her  life, 
her struggles to touch the sky, 
yet staying few inches above the earth,
and struggling to stay alive. 

Whenever she grew few inches more, 
was either grazed, suppressed or cut. 

Hopeless she was once flowing with the wind, 
Breezes were detangling her locks. 
Suddenly, the strokes  of wind turned harsh, 
And kept on being harsher. 

Surrounded by the squally of dust, 
she held the earth tightly. 
Deep and strong roots
gave her the strength to survive. 

While the world which stood tall and strong, 
stayed away from all the misery till storm, 
are now lying devastated. 
While she shrugged off the dust, stretched herself and started blossoming vertically. 

The grass understood after storm, 
she is the not a queen, 
with fancy crown. 
But is a fighter, a survivor, 
her roots is the invisible sword. 
She looks tender,  
but she is a badass dissident.

Her strength was proved, 
when storm hit her to the hardest. 
Gifting her faith and confidence. 
So she smiled and stretched herself vertically,
holding the ground tightly. 

 

 

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