The Sower

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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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Paradox

Frailty flutters,

driven by drafts

which force the Fall.

Paper-thin,

when membranes rupture,

Seed is sown –

paradox of

palatial proportion.