My Root

I was born into rags and tatters,
Hand-me-downs and meagre price tags,
Into the arms of a single mother
Whose devotion has not once wavered.

I was raised by countrywomen,
By aunts and uncles, and friends,
And by scores of jolly cousins,
Who now raise their own children.

I was housed among rough dwellings
That shared the same wall and courtyard,
The same walk to a store for trading—
Frequented by all
for just about anything.

I was sent away at twenty
For higher learning, better potential,
For a brush with the first society;
Yet for good my root remains
in a quaint community.