I glimpsed our future:
the narrowing of my days
lit by slanted light.
Voiced in harsh rebuke,
judgmental criticisms
will rain down on me...
more oblique comments
digging to undermine me
without foundation.
My earth will then crack.
I will fall into that void
where seeds become stones.
I’ll become stilted;
framed within warped compartments
in a sunless space.
And I will wither.
Or maybe I’ll be strangled.
This garden lacks love.
Some gardens are dust;
some lie under cracked concrete,
but I seek green’s growth.
Now on fertile ground,
a runner bean flourishing,
I’ve outstripped my past.
When bent in hard times,
weary under crush of snow,
His staff held me firm.
I’m tied to Him now,
entwined in His loving arms,
faithful in sun’s glow.
In His safe arbor,
’midst a forest of friendship,
each shoot can stand tall.
The way was so long;
petals were crushed underfoot
but I did blossom.
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