Sometimes a beginning takes a long time.
Sometimes growth takes a while.

We can sit and wonder why things take so long.
Have we been forgotten?
Have we been over looked?
Will we ever see life again?
Will we ever grow another garden?

I know such a Gal
who gave all to her gardens.
I know a Lass,
who nurtured life into it.
I know a story,
of a Flood that wiped it all away.
I know of years, and of heartbreak.

But sometimes we don’t see the seed budding
and sometimes we don’t know the soil is just right.
Sometimes we are unaware of our own seeds,
and sometimes we can’t feel the light of the sun.

A simple seed must decay,
break open,
lose its skin,
fall apart…
If it is to ever grow into a plant.

A simple seed must let go,
allow water inside,
allow dirt to surround it,
let itself burst out…
If it is to ever escape from the grave.

And how do most of these seeds
find their way to the place
where they shall grow?
It is by the release from their home,
their safety, their shelter.
It is by abandonment from their parent,
and the withering of the flower,
and the drying and loss of nourishment.
It is by the wind that carries away,
and the waters that wash away,
and the earth that covers up.

Everything before must be let go,
so that the Seed itself
May become everything of its own.

Sometimes it takes a long time for us to begin again.
Sometimes it requires the loss of security.
Sometimes we have to let ourselves die,
and be surrounded by the flood,
absorbed by the earth,
stripped of our emotional bonds.
Sometimes we have to dwell underground,
and wait.

When all else seems it can’t be worse,
then we find ourselves breaking apart,
letting in the waters,
reaching down further into the soil, and into hell.
All with the faith, that our crown is sprouting some green.

I know a Girl who lost her Garden.
I know a Woman who began a new one.
I know this time the garden… is truly hers.
This time,
She is her own Flower.

Ryan o0o