A wild field of flowers
Overgrown and unkempt
Sweetness lingers in the air
After the spring rains went
There is life within the field
An assortment of insects abound
Air is buzzing with activity
And crawling across the ground
How long will the wild field prosper
and sweet smells of her flowers be found?
How long till the more distinguished
Come and overturn her with the plow?
Do the insects grieve the loss of her nectar?
Do the rodents suffer their homes?
Does the air remember her sweet scents?
Now thick with dung of the cow?
Who can argue the need to plow?
To use the land to its fullest,
To plant some seed in an ordered way
And reap a good rich harvest?
and yet, my soul grieves...
Whether right or wrong
The loss of the wild field.
To look and see what once was lush
Now ripped, overturned and gone
I know the promise of the seed
I know the scarred land is pregnant with a harvest
But it will come in rows too straight for this artist.
cjb
" Why should I be frightened and surprised by the plow of the Lord, which makes deep furrows in my soul? I know He is not some arbitrary or irrational farmer- His purpose is to yeild a harvest." Samuel Rutherford
"When a farmer plows for planting, does he plow continually?" Isaiah 28:24
About Me
- BrownEyedGirl
- Only a reflection as in a mirror,an image.A form of what is, what we see or perceive of who we are. Yet,Promised so much more. Now,we know in part. Then,we shall know fully. Breathe,the warmth of Your Breath on the glass of my soul.Leave the fingerprint of God upon my mirror. So, when others draw near to share a breath of life,a moment,they may see the mark of God pressed on me.Breathe and it will appear not because I put it there.But because I've been touched by the hand of God.No reflection will be seen past the mark He made.When others look in my mirror and breathe. -cjb
2 comments:
this is such a wonderful poem Carole.
this my favorite verse:
How long will the wild field prosper
and sweet smells of her flowers be found?
How long till the more distinguished
Come and overturn her with the plow.
and i read "scarred land" first as scarred hand.
thank you for using your gift. And happy 4th!
I'm sorry I didn't see this sooner....
something in it speaks to me of
deeper than the scarred surface of the earth or the heart ...
it longs for the original , casual planting of, the wild
cannot-be-structured, or
ordered-and-fenced-in
God of the Universe...
" and yet, my soul grieves...
Whether right or wrong
The loss of the wild field.
To look and see what once was lush
Now ripped, overturned and gone
I know the promise of the seed
I know the scarred land is pregnant with a harvest
But it will come in rows too straight for this artist."
I often starve....in the fast-paced, schedule-driven, activity-centered hectic world ; moving at the pace of our enemies driven people.... never allowing depth, but always turning over something new, something fresh, addicting us to seek only the latest, flashiest, etc..........
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