I’ve wondered for a while if I want to get married or not. I feel such a strong purpose to write and illustrate books that will draw people closer to God, and I don’t want to add things in my life that will distract me from that. But, it’s strange that I feel like God has also given me a lot of love to give away. So thus my struggle.
Where My Seeds Lie
I withhold my love like little seeds hidden in my palm every day. I’m too busy etching permanent pictures of trees Because they will never change or die.
But then I find my two friends Holding each other in their kitchen. She rests her hand on his chest and she whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is that she says Just makes him hold her tighter.
But time will bury that love And those same hands will slam doors Because their daughter died.
Not the palm she rested on his chest, Nor all the love they gave their dying little girl Will be etched On their daughter’s gravestone.
They will fade away.
So, why? Why was I given these little seeds of love To hold in my soft palm If they are only buried When I open my hands.
Raw Spoon, 5-27-15