Fertile ground



It’s a blessèd thing
to dig, to grow, to weep, to reap,
but sometimes they surprise you:
because no matter how you sow
they just up and walk away,
not caring what they do or say
or how they hurt you when they go.

You want to wither—but you don’t—
that’s not how you were raised.
Instead, you put your head down
and keep on digging, keep on trying,
keep on crying over what you hope
is fertile ground, praying as you go.

Thank you for reading Fertile ground I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain, and as always, I look forward to your comments.

Recently, I reviewed and archived all my poems on the Book of Pain. Some, I realized, were really two poems in one, this being such an example. The other portion of that original poem is posted separately and retains the title Do you know a gardener?

The photograph was taken in our garden. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

john

Photograph, poem and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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3 Comments

Filed under Poetry

3 responses to “Fertile ground

  1. Pingback: Do you know a gardener? | the Book of Pain

  2. John. Wow! How powerfully you wrote of things I truly “get”. I so enjoyed reading your prose and looking at your day lily. Beautiful post all the way around. Thank you! 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

    • Amy, dear, thank you very much! I am glad, and at the same time, a little sad for you that you “get” the poem. But it is where all my best work comes from, my heart, so I am very appreciative of your comment! 🙂