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.