The Wellspring of Your History

Soon,
The fog will fade.

But, 
While you wait, 
For the light 
To again invade,  
Receive 
The ink 
To 
Make a way 
For the seeds.

For you cannot (yet)
Write your way through. 

The soil is not fertile.
The air is not clear.  
The seeds are not prepared. 

But, one day, 
The fog will fade 
And, 
The light will make a way. 
For the  soil to welcome 
The seeds, 
Laid by your hands 
And the ink 
It once, 
In the waiting, 
Had received. 

For one day, 
The words 
Will rise 
To tell the story. 

Yes, 
They will rise, 
In due time. 

You are sowing 
Something beautiful 
In your waiting 
And 
In your grief. 

Leave a Reply