Spread my mind and guard my soul,
the me that is and always will be,
help my roots grow deep and wide
and may you always shelter me.
May you dance with every breeze,
delight the eye with every sway,
train my mind to hear and teach
the wisdom you impart each day.
Take my voice to be your song,
through street and inner-city school,
let your shelter shade their minds
and temper heat with dappled cool.
Take my words to sing your praise,
and fill the ear with endless green,
until their hearts can grow again,
until their life and yours run clean.
Deep within the ferny swamp,
a mossy hillside beckons me,
beneath the fireflies that romp
and play about a great Oak tree.
Beneath the Oak, upon a stone,
a figure sits, form cloaked and still,
awaiting my approach, alone,
a statue, grey, upon the hill.
Gnarled knuckles grace the hands
that rise to lift the heavy cloak,
revealed, the spirit of the sands,
the Lady of the great Live Oak.
Tangled hair of spanish moss,
and eyes a deep palmetto green,
the scars of years lie mapped across
the softest skin I’ve ever seen.
She meets my gaze with patient eyes,
her smile as soft as summers hum,
her voice, so deep and old and wise,
whispers “Child, I’m glad you’ve come.”