-and we plant
scratching the dry ground
into crumbling mounds
returning to themselves
before the next feebly rises
from its own dusty cloud
-and we pray for rain
with our splitting
nails, knees bleeding through
graveled scabs, sweat
mapping broken shoulders
and dirty feet
-and we plant
surrounded by colorless
horizons interrupted
only by waves of heat-
a barren and bone dry,
fathomless ocean
-and we pray for rain
they call us
fools
to work the ground
as we mutter
to a cloudless sky
-and we plant
Then the song-
old, untired-
whose words become
thunder-distant, low
and long
-and we pray for rain
as green rises, rich
beyond our sight,
past the stretch
of our cloudless sky-
but we smell it on the air
-and we plant
because we know.
The fabulous image of the baby oak tree is by Artūrs Ķipsts on Unsplash.
We are grateful for Artūrs‘ gift and his generosity.
Susan Mulder finds herself on a journey to find peace with herself and in the world. Writing poetry is a way she challenges herself after laying down her previous career/s to pursue God’s path for her future. With a terminal degree in fine art in painting, she has held several positions in what she calls her ‘old life’. Though Mulder continues to paint and exhibit and is the author of a poetry collection, No Ordinary Time, she finds her deepest expression (and joy) in writing and within the eyes of her grandchildren.
“-and we plant.”
What a faith-filled poem, Susan. Thank you!