You surround us.
There is comfort there.
So much comfort to be had
by the thought of our
encompassment.
We lie, like seeds in the earth;
or wait, as birds in a nest.
For our provision.
For our establishment
in the ground.
And for a while there,
we thrive.
Until seasons change,
and our understanding
grows to find,
that none of us were made to stay grounded
for long.
Birds take flight.
Seeds and green leaves are shed, and spread
across land and sky.
We were made to grow,
and lengthen and expand.
To break our shells,
to green and die, and
then restore ourselves from the ground.
And in the dark and light;
in the summer, and in the winter’s night,
we recognise wherever we are,
there is a greater purpose,
and meaning profound.
Truth deeper than we might ever grasp,
found in the knowledge, of your love.
Love as a tent,
that circles and surrounds.
Seen in the flight of birds, and Spring’s first emergent growth.
And witnessed in the dying of the light,
and the closed eyes of those farewelled.
Love is bigger, and larger and completely beyond
what we can comprehend, but its comfort
is in the knowledge that it’s a tent,
and we’re held safe
in its confines.
Ana Lisa de Jong
May 2017
Image: Gabriel Jimenez, ‘Poor Man’s Garden’
Courtesy of Unsplash
Living Tree Poetry 