And One More Poem Just To See The Night Out. I’m Feeling Sentimental Now. There’s No One To Spend It On This Late At Night

A Child’s Garden

A child once more I am

duck feet planted in mud

Soil speaks through the soles of my feet

Are weeds always weeds?

Some are so beautiful

their wildness I keep

Defiant expression

against the compression

of my life

Messy business, gardening

like bearing children

hard labor and training

Of tiny hands and tendril vines

untamed seedlings of a kind

stern, but of divine force, yielding

Corinna Evrard

oh that my heart would yield as easily as grassweed underneath my fingers, and i could pluck the unnecessary parts away from the whole. leave my garden perfected.. at least as perfected as i think it ought to be.

would i find wholeness?

would i be satisfied?

can i be satisfied with anything of my own making?

i think that i would not be. i’m waiting for a Gift.

nothing that i’ve earnt or deserved. something hoped for and imagined of, but nothing that i could really fathom. i don’t know much of Love but i would rather have the mystery of that… and be given the Gift with my wide-eyed innocence intact.

trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not

on your own understanding

in all your ways acknowledge Him

and He will make your paths straight.

and how would you have me be? what should i say and do?

let love and faithfulness never leave you

bind them around your neck

write them on the tablet of your heart

my heart is a billion small pieces of my fragmented life. God’s hand is binding it up with a soft bandage, and holding it together. my understanding and perspective on life is constantly turned around.

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