What You Don’t See

His Garden

I am a moving tree,

With roots reaching beyond known miles-

Suckling from sources

To refute the choices of denial-

Where I stand there is no still,

Constant growing

Feeding meals.

I stand in mother mode,

A peace of ignorance

Forever sold-

Correcting, protecting, doing my best to love-

Exhausted, confused, internally treading on emotions of-

Questions unanswered

Maneuvering blindly,

Nodding my head numb and kindly.

That stretch of cord over there,

Belongs to humanity-

Or what I believe it used to be-

The part that clings to integrity and character,

Genuine caring and honest laughter-

Lifting others without the need of fame,

Recognizing heroes that do the same-

Being grateful there are no needs unmet,

Astonished at the greedy whose hearts are set-

Never fulfilled never enough,

Having it “all” must be tough.

This thick one over on this side;

Is that enemy I try to hide-

The survivor that’s healing,

And in very many ways currently grieving-

What was yanked away before I ever got it,

Because i didn’t have the comprehension for that emotional audit-

Learning to direct what feelings equally belong,

To the action tagging along.

This smaller root that seems to be withering,

Is only cautiously hibernating-

Stagnant in its lack of decision making,

Frozen on that line of alternating-

In parts of our world that wish me dead,

Or the half that wants me fed-

The choice fused together,

So there imagines no answer.

One last line of attachment,

The one that keeps me breathing-

The only one consistently reaching-

Is the original fulfillment cord,

That only comes from my Father Lord.

He who set me with a purpose I cannot see,

But in my soul I just believe-

Though in this nasty sinful place,

It’s simple to make yourself a piece of waste-

But that is man’s unbelief,

For in His image I was conceived.