Winter comes hard
this year
the dying is deep.
her cold creeps, seeps,
in - through out - between
surrounding
exposing
suffocating
self.
the dying is swift.
the dying is slow.
The battle for Son
never ceases.
I could succumb to winter's
numbing blanket
stay buried, insulated from change-
from pain
or allow sudden chill to
regenerate life
spark a quiet ember,
a seed of growth.
I'll linger in her
silent algor
As He strips me bare,
tilling my heart,
transforming my soul
for
spring.
"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." John 12:24
4 comments:
Aimee
That is a beautiful poem. How we should all long for the Fathers touch in our heart to till our heart and transform our soul.
Thank you for posting
grace and peace
"As He strips me bare,
tilling my heart,
transforming my soul
for
spring."
Yes, I feel this deeply.
Thank you, Aimee.
(((Thank you.)))
Aimee, that is incredible writing and it spoke to my heart. It made me realize one of my "2010 longings"--to write creatively once again. Thank you!
these words chill... make me FEEL. thank you... such utter beauty. it's rare these days that poetry moves me, but this did. peace to you, aimee, and strength, as you die to self...
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