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.
Copyright © Anne Linington | Year Posted 2009
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