A Flower Speaks for Terri Schiavo
Give me the tiniest amount of dirt for my roots, a crack to cling to, a few hours of sun ... a trickle of water ... and I will live!
Do not doubt the power of Life within me. Can't you see it even though my body hardly moves? Even though I lack the power to speak? Don't you see it burning with a fire that rages at being extinguished? Life flows through my veins like Holy Water ... a trickle of water ... give that to me, and I will be here again tomorrow, clinging, clinging alive! to this spot I've been given.
Where does your hard-heartedness, hard-headedness, hard-soulessness come from? Will the immense, dark stone cliff of all that you stand for crumble if one small life is allowed to live? Will the granite edifice where you hold court turn to dust if ... a trickle of water ... is let to nourish one little, brave, defiant, fragile, sacred life?