This Is My Square

This is my square. No apologies. I was given a bunch of dirt and a very tiny rake. Years later, this small square is all mine. It is filled with beautiful flowers and lots of love. You can see it if you care to look deeper. I will open the high wall I have built around it and show you inside, but don't ask me to say I am sorry for being proud of what I have made. I will not. The square I stand firmly inside of is my badge of courage, my stripes. It is not arrogance that makes me proud to own this, to say it is well tended and of good quality. My heart lies in the middle of the space I occupy. I was left alone for many years, sentenced to hard labor here. I made something out of nothing. Don't you see it? Can I be proud of what I made? There were years of long days spent toiling here. Digging rocks away and preparing the ground. This square is valuable now and I have the knowledge of each and every seed I planted. Things bloom in seasons, wait for them and they will appear before your eyes. I watered this ground with sweat and tears and time. This is my square. No apologies.