To remain soft in the land of hurt,
To allow movement when pain may follow,
To continue towards being sculpted when cuts will callous and burn,
To get back up again,
Refusing to let darkness have the final word.
I understand the hate of this world,
Words,
Actions,
Betrayal,
Noise.
Heartbreak can do that sort of thing to a soul,
Leave it crying out,
Desperate to be heard,
To be protected,
To be salvaged,
Safe.
It’s much easier to create brick walls instead of inviting gardens.
It’s much easier to lay concrete instead of tending to soil.
Yet soil is where richness lies,
Where wonder, and abundance, and awestruck joy abide.
We are losing the battle for beauty,
We are losing the gift of our lives.
Oh for hands to cradle soil,
Nurture soul,
Remain soft,
Open,
Held.
Establish this work of tenderness in us oh God.
Establish this work of wonder in the midst of a weary world.
Establish this work of silent surrender to a miraculous life.
