Seed Bed

My mind fertile Grows unplanted habituals Among strange plants I kneel to weed The little shrubs Of hate. I do not plant All that grows But heart fertilize damp beds With dark clouds of tears. Memories has hidden rain Floods that drown crops of joy: The things I dream. Wingless things, Shadows of old dreams That make fears sit up And scream. My mind a fertile place Grows faith Unweeded doubt thrive like spring And I kneeling Whisper Prayers of repentance uprooting things To keep my garden clean. I pray the Holy Spirit Rains Tonight. The roots of my faith struggle in the dry Of soil and rough of stone Where weed by design are better grown. All growth is by water ruled, I pray I have soft clay For the potter when He comes.