And I know I'll never deserve any of it.
Not the patient sighs, the hands that reach in love.
I can taste it. How sweet this is, how rare. How much I shouldn't have this, but I do.
Sometimes, I can't reach back. My words don't work, my pride binds me.
I'll never deserve this. These quiet moments I can hear you waiting. Your grim-set mouth hates what I've done, but your eyes don't complain.
Sometimes we need a heart beat to trod through nightmares with us.
And your heart pounds steady. Your blood runs faithful.
I know what you see. So many tears cast on barren ground, until they run together in an ugly labyrinth of muddy disappointment.
But you're a farmer. So you hunker down with promises clenched tightly in your heart, and wait for the harvest.
And I'm thankful.
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| "Those who sow in tears will reap with shouts of joy!" -- psalm 126:5 |
