Open Hands


I met with a Gardener in a barren field
His crop like bronze
His plow like wool
His hands were callous
Like messaging sand paper
Everything he touched was smooth
I asked
Why do you plants Seeds in rejecting soil
He replied
To make grass grow from the cracks of sidewalks
Trees bear fruit from the side of homes
Its not what you plant the seed in
Its how much of the Sun you have
With enough light
You can take root in any place
He showed me how to plant when my soiled heart was rejecting
I realized
I was a flower
Blooming in cracked apartment building
Growing under the Son
Planted by God

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