From the hands of life

 of which I was planted,

in dirt of midnight and scattered with stones.

The creation of a child, 

with weakened lungs

and little bones.

Carried through the door, 

unknowing of what was next.

Little did I know, this was a crucial test.

A test to show from what I was made,

a tiny seed 

planted in the shade.

For years, it rained and rained.

No drop of sunshine, no sweet bird sang.

Lightning strikes and clouds of gray,

the enduring seed grew everyday. 

I knew there was a purpose, I knew I must go on,

I knew I had to keep on growing, from the moments of right and wrong.

As my eyes opened, the morning sky gently held the sun as the birds sang.

This was the moment.

A peaceful butterfly

 soared

 through the lilac sky,

then I knew the reason why.