These blades,
Guillotine to slice flesh
From bone, shred all semblance of comfort.
This rack,
Gears ground like teeth on edge,
Stretch faith beyond breaking.
Suffering gouges, disembowels,
Carves furrows upon her aching heart,
Divides the sheep and the goats
Into messy eviscerated piles.
The Sower scatters – dignified, purposeful.
Seeds cling with new tenacity
To scars, places where faith
That bleeds replaces stone.
They fall into gaping wounds,
Freshly ploughed soil
Where germination reigns.
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I think the word “sow” beautiful and deep, because the seeds sown in the fields sprout . We can also sow love and brotherhood.
So many good things can be sown when we allow them a soft place to grow! Thanks Sissy…
And cling they do. What a great photo to match.
It will be the most expensive lettuce in history. I never counted on needing to run my space heater through a couple of weeks of -20 weather. Sheesh. 😉
This is nice
Thank you!
amazing concept behind the words…
🙂 In our brokenness lies our truest strength…
WOW!! Truly thought provoking!!
In our broken places lies our truest strength – if we allow our hearts to be humbled and instructed in those places. Thanks Kathleen!