Seeds on the ground, touching dirt.
Hope supported by the earth.
The kernel is the focus now,
The loam, just a medium found
For life thrown into the wind,
And God to send grace again,
With rain bringing new birth.
Yet that seed and deep rich soil,
Are partners for the Sower’s toil.
Dropping hope to the ground,
Not every seed is chamber bound
To send down searching roots
Nor bring forth sustaining fruit
And to the sun to turn and coil.
Am I ground hard from wear
Life passes on paths bare?
Others only to travel on,
Today touched, tomorrow gone.
No chance at all to affect,
Nothing passes through neglect,
Each step the harder despair.
Am I the soil that comes to mind
Bare rocks within, not hard to find?
The loam exists in small amount
Beside the boulders of which no doubt
Make the grower groan with pain
To move them from the field to gain
The earth that to the plow is kind.
Am I the field so choked by weeds
Of worries, cares and endless needs.
Competing with the life I long
To lead with harvest bearing song.
For from the field so little taken
The voice of gleaners is forsaken
No bounty found, no family feeds.
I see these three in my life’s garden.
The path, the rocks, the weeds, no pardon
Found for I have seen the growth
That comes through soil and seed betrothed
In perfect union, life and love
The harmony sung far above
That softens soil much pain has hardened.
I am the ground set to proceed.
Through every moment’s touch I heed
The working of my soul’s deep sod.
Though often times I think it odd
That even when my heart is ready,
All is arranged, the weather steady,
The Sower chooses not to seed.
Tim Blair, 2009
In honor for National Poetry Month, you'll find poetry here all month.