My mother and religion

It's not that there was no nature in our street.
There were suns, moons, a handful of clouds,
But I longed for something I could hold:
A flower, a leaf, something that will take roots in my hand.
You used to tell me: my little one,
The only root we have is in the sky.
Father, for me it was just a word.
It wasn't enough even then, before the pain, before the sadness.
It is not enough now.

Background: a conversation between the father and my mother. My mother speaks, alluding to the future.