Step Forward
The sickest branches are easiest to spot,
by the damaged bark and the smell of rot
our shears are poised to trim and cut
the blades are opened and then snapped shut
But some, appear benign and healthy
their disease is sometimes sly and stealthy,
are these the ones that most need pruning,
if one's soul's to get a proper grooming?
A lie that's told to soften the blow
resentments kept by a fragile ego,
love withheld or trust denied,
oh, what's to trim can be hard to decide
No rationales and no self-pity,
no trusted friends, no sub-committees,
a mirror and a cold, bright light
may bring the truth into plain sight
Then chop and change, oh gardener!
With that comes growth, a spirit freer;
a heart that's rid of darkened places
makes life a lighter, gentler space
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2014
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