The Plough

How could I have known That when I opened the creaking gate Of the field of my life And invited you in To do the necessary work That your activity would be so painful And yet ultimately Bring about a harvest? Setting your plough To dig down deep To turn over And break up Almost touching the deep bedrock Of my soul Revealing me in all my created Rawness. Leaving me exposed Rich pickings for hungry gulls Whilst all that I had previously Thought worthwhile Is torn from its root Dies And is re-interred In the soil Of my life Now I lie open and naked As my neat furrows are Rained upon Reduced Frozen Broken down Emptied of all former life Waiting Then one day The returning sun of your love Gently warming O'er lengthening days Begins my re-awakening Precious seed is sown In prepared ground Watched over Anticipated And the Autumn pain Brings life And hope.