Whisper of Hope

As I look at the sprouting pomegranate seedlings I planted several weeks ago, and as I reflect upon some sad news I received yesterday, I figure now is a good time to post a poem I wrote last summer.

Whisper of Hope

There is something inside
which has not come out
it still lies beneath
as a hidden sprout

I feel it is growing
deep
deep
into the soil
while the toiler sleeps

Silently slowly
down slide the roots
holding like hands
the laborer's fruits

Movement and stirring
and upwardly climbing
the green starts to show
the sower is reaping

Up
it is stretching
silencing strife
this beautiful
indescribable
wobbly
new life

It has come so far
but there's much more to grow
so toiler, laborer
you keep what you know
until the sun moves
and beckons you follow

Rise
little one
reach for the heart
surrender yourself
to the Master of art

Calling
He's calling
as if for the first time
you hear Him
He says
I love you
you are mine.

I dedicate this poem to all who are struggling, to all who feel lost and in the dark.  Remember, the roots must be submerged into the darkness if the new growth is to make its way to the sun that sustains it.  Do not be afraid to bend yourself towards the light and love that reaches out to you.

My baby pomegranate trees!