Good loam to work your hands in,
black dirt under your nails;
back to ache, neck to burn
exhaustion from planting and worrying.
Seed to sow, rain to come, life to hold on dear to:
sacred hope, quiet hope—deepest in our hearts,
love, patience and trust,
troth to those before us.
And life grows, it does, but rarely as we will,
and sometimes, often, it’s the roots that pull you down:
because no matter how you planted them
they just up and walk away—not caring what they do or say,
or how deeply they sow inside you.
So what do you do?
You keep your head down
and keep on digging, keep on trying,
keep on watering the fertile ground
with your tears, praying as you go.
Relationships can be hard to grow, nurture and maintain. The point is not that some relationships will hurt you, because at some point they all do; the point is, how do you react when they do?
That is the measure you strive to live by.
Thank you so much for reading Do you know a gardener? I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.
© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem, either alone or with the notes that accompany it, may be printed and distributed—in part or amalgamated with other works—as long as the copyright notice and the address, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com, are also clearly printed with it and there is no fee charged.