Weary from So Much Seeking….

Not long ago, these hands
Planted flowers upon green Earth,
Worked in dirt and raised up beds,
Pulled weeds in hope that beauty
Would diminish distance,
Encompass you and all your pain…
Streams and rivers and oceans
Flowing blindly back into ageless time.
Now my flowers are covered with
An early snow and I am old and tired.
Energy is weak and veins are hurting,
Weary from too much seeking…
So many branches broken across the path.
Great distance from the head to heart,
From brow to waist to feet
At times no more immense than grains of wheat.
Still, treasures of love seem buried deep.
Shall I spend my life digging in the soil?
Planting new trees I shall never see
Explore the heights of blue sky and clouds?
But what else is there to do but love?
But keep walking, walking, walking…
Moving to heal the wounds
With calloused hands still bleeding—
Close whatever distance still separates
You from me, us from them, until….
We all are one again.


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