Strong
like the wind that caresses the cheek or blows tiles from a roof
stronger than the tree
rooted in the generations
it doesn’t move
and its branches always bear fruit
strong
like an idea
that rises anew with each youth who
raises his fist and dreams
yellow petals ripple
and catch your hair
so you close your eyes to
breathe
strong like the sun
on your uplifted face
and the cascading water on your back
your fears have nothing compared
with this strength
they are shadows that melt into light
.
Published in Broadsheets 7/Agenda poetry journal Vol. 42 No. 2
benwhite.org.uk 