Foreign blooms, immortal flower
Incandescent, colored, power
Am I the wildest, striped and pruned,
Am I the strangest, cragged and looped,
Am I the weirdest, scorned and dooped,
Am I not woman, God’s fruit?

Separate Strands, similar pattern
Shined with glory, still in tatters
Am I the feather, tall and proud
Am I the eye, blind and loud
Am I the thread, small, hidden
Am I not his bird, his creature?

Spread across the sky, a banner
Reflections of the light its manner
Am I the arch, foundation,
Am I the hue, the true friend
Am I the light, the kind guide
Am I not his beauty, his creation?

Lonesome on the earth, mere person
I feel my state, it gradu’lly worsens
Am I the orchid, wild and strange
Am I the peacock, shouting my name,
Am the rainbow, made this way?
Am I a failure, in His name?

No, I am not a foreign object
I am not the strangest of strange
I am not the bellowing fool
I am not my own person
I am God’s.

I do not have to be super
And though I may be thought as strange
As orchids, peacocks or rainbows
But as he loves me, I love them
And I definitely love me.