My feet are planted on quicksand,
Never to stay too long I’m told,
The changing tides, the roaming winds
Blast me to my knees.

I’ve never reached solid ground, 
Not known of a homestead my own,
The grasping of my arms
Jerks me back to a ledge.

Pulling up, seeking dry land,
I dream of a garden of light,
My children there, their babies too,
As my roots cling to the soil I’ve found.

My dear mother, let me grow,
Let me plant my tree right here,
I need the nourishment found,
I need my own spot on your earth.