I love the crackling sound of soil
soaking in water freshly fallen,
where newborn sprouts, skyward stretching,
glisten with beads of liquid light.
What is it in the human spirit that
longs to protect these fragile shoots –
to peer into their earthen pots
and cheer their growth with pulsing heart?
Perhaps an answer lies within
seeds still dormant in our heart’s earth,
long ago fallen from pods of promise
into fertile ground awaiting birth.
These seeds within house mystery flowers
whose germination we both fear and crave –
what might our kernel-sheltered longings
become if they climb to taste the day?
Will they meet a brisk wind that knocks them flat
or have time to grow roots to give them strength?
Does a chance to blossom outweigh the risk
of a late frost’s cruel and deadly kiss?
Curled in darkness the questions lie thick,
like soil piled in mounds upon those seeds
who’ve all but forgotten that, at their core,
they were shaped and crafted for so much more.
But the sprouts upon their tenuous stems
sing down and call our souls to dare:
“Come, oh come into the light –
leave angst below and breathe new air!”
And so we heed their beckoning song,
echoes of the still, small voice within,
whose waves of love assure us now
that even bruised reeds he will not break.
New courage pulsing, upward we climb,
splitting shadows along our way,
safe in knowing that whatever may come
we grow in the garden of the eternal Son.
April 26 & July 29, 2020
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