The Phillips Anthology

Beneath the Roots and Beneath the Light

Hidden beneath the soil.

The world will not see me. The world will not understand me.

I can crawl around beneath the rocks of this world,

But I cannot show myself to the brethrens

That dwell above the very roots of this Earth

And is known with the light that shines among them.

 I close myself within the very fortress of the soil that

Surrounds me. I cannot be hurt.

I slowly rise above the soil and look out

Where the sun shines upon every man

And puts life in motion for each to see

Who I am. I bring myself back into my enclosure.

They mocked me. They hurt me.

Different is not taken kindly to those whose ethic is

To be normal.

I stay within my safety zone beneath the roots,

I may be mocked but I cannot hear it.

For where I was born may be my coffin,

But at least I will not have to hear those words again.

But the soil was ripped apart and my home

Of safety was no more. The light burned my eyes

But it saved me from my cries.

Hands came to me to which I took,

I clambered up to be taken afoot,

For what was before me were the loves of those

Willing to accept me for who I am.

‘Normal’ may not be part of my agenda,

But uniqueness is the loved criteria.