The Throbbing of Growing Green

It is difficult for this soul farmer to discover even after all of these years that the soil of my heart is still so hard, packed down by the endless tramping of self-doubt, bone dry from the bitter wind of fear.

I have a stone in my chest. There is gravel in my brain. I have made a wall between us with the bricks from my soul.

I am afraid of your story seeds.

For when you share out of your brokenness, it breaks me. When you weep, the rain falls.

I look within to find soft ground again. There is the throbbing of growing green.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.