Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Poem: Matthew 12:20
You dig in the garden.
The earth, wet from the night's rain,
falls apart in your hand,
dark and rich, full or promise.
You plant the small sprig
you have nursed for a season,
patiently waiting, waiting
for the first roots to reach out,
in water, waiting for life to spring
from this broken limb
of a flower once loved
until storms ripped it from it's source,
and left it broken on the grass,
waiting to die.
But it did not die. Not quite.
And you are here, returning it to the earth,
it's water fed roots hungry
for deeper life
as you set it gently down,
Matthew 12:20 begins: "A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out....."
The photograph was taken in my back yard a couple of years ago. You can click on it for a larger version.