Gardening Widow's Weeds
Will there always be this hole
in the middle of my chest like a crater still smoking from where an asteroid hit? Will it cool someday and fill with water so that it becomes a lake I walk around as regular exercise? Do I choose which landscape? If so I choose the promises of the desert blossoming into a baptismal pool of grace and look forward to seeing the garden that will blossom around it into tender compassion that I’ll walk through to you. © 2010 Tess Lockhart. All rights reserved. |