The Wound

The soil once soft and giving

Cheerfully accepted the rain

Fostered life and growth

Playing its part in the cycle

Time happens as time is wont to do

Trampled and hardened

The soil turns from receiving 

And in kind, refuses to give

It becomes dry and cracked

Broken by pressure and the sun

Life being baked out of it

But not in the vision of the farmer

With dogged determination 

And a relentless passion 

He wrestles the plow into position

And drives the honed wedged blade in 

The earth screams

At the piercing of the blade

The tearing of the ground

But this intrusion is just beginning 

With a team of oxen

Or horses, or a tractor

Guided by knowing hands

The plow blade begins to rip the soil

As it pulls through

The tenderness of the earth 

The softness of the soil

The hidden safe parts are exposed

The wound is deep

The tearing is relentless 

The earth cries and bleeds

Surely this is death

But, death does not visit

Rather, life comes

“The wound

Is where the light gets in”

The seed is introduced 

Into the gaping wound

With its very own microcosm 

Of the death and life cycle

The outer shell dies

So the life inside may escape

It is ‘torn’ if you will

To release its light 

So, the earth is torn

And life grows from the wound

The give and take continues

As from the beginning

Right now

You are hurting

You have closed your heart

However, your determination 

Not to be hurt

Not to be bruised

Not to be battered

Not to be torn

By the act of loving

Hampers your giving 

The wound

Is where the life gets in

The wound

Is where the healing must begin

Open, once again, your heart

Exposed your tender parts

Be brave, be courageous 

There is life yet to live

There is love yet to give

The wound

Is where it begins

© Ron Simpson Jr