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
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
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.