Faith Brings the Harvest

FAITH BRINGS THE HARVEST Although they go forth weeping carrying the seed to be sown, They shall come back rejoicing Psalm 124 The furrows of our beginnings lie barren: cystic Seeds fallen between the rows; statues of clods Represent still stages shadowing scenes Deferred. Ancient ones, rooted by the river, grow Like their mother willows: weeping tears To barren seeds rains have forgotten to fall on. (Who or what will germinate their souls?) The plow masters have gone to wilderness: Wandering trails of bygone labors; the Plow sheds have gone empty; bellows Have lost their harvest winds. Fields, in shadows of mountains, await The coming of the rain goddess; we In memories of acacia dreams, Sprinkle phoenix ashes; Whispering sacred words To dormant seeds we have sown: Indeed, faith will bring the harvest.