I have tucked small seeds

Into bed, covered them in blankets

Of odorous soil, compost and burnt earth.

On bent knees I watch, wondering

Where the longing for life throbs fiercest –

The slumbering raw-red interior,

The fulsome soil or my heart that beats

With such terrible tenderness

Knowing too well that upon the sprouting

Of a single seed, a whole world turns.


Small ones, I only wish for you

To find your place in the world,

Grow tall and in your turn, let fall

White winged seeds. For I, too,

Have stood drinking in sunlight

Like golden wine flowing through

The wounded places, while angels

Whirred round me, to bring me home.






Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s