Promise

prelude

Word made seed: a germination
dances quiet in its shell;
and by the wayside starts the blossoming
of a thousand little heads
inclining already toward sunrise.

Summer winds will tangle them
and winters lull to sleep
until the blush, the break, the beckoning
of faithful springs,

and the turning seasons will be to them a promise --

wavering ones: take root,
take rest and restoration.
I will make you innumerable,
yet count your every fibre.

The contours of your branches
will be outlines of my image
for the despised ones, the meek and contemned,
to adorn,
and your leaves will be a shelter to the fragile;
you will catch a thousand falling ones and never break.


And the promise gives life:
seed springs up sudden, blooms relentless,
word takes root and pollinates the earth
while seasons blow by on the wind;

then,
in the glow of a blazing harvest
heaven's readiness grows ripe,
the call descends and the free take flight,
a mist of tiny seeds
in one last migration, in one final sunset,

to be planted in a new world.

.:.

2 comments:

kazia said...

beautiful photos :)

Oksana said...

Thank you (belatedly), Kazia! :) Just checked out your blog, and your photos are fantastic!


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I'm Oksana—Communication major, shutterbug, occasional blogger, incessant doodler, graphic design geek, and writer of sentimental prose. I am quite content to spend an afternoon with a pencil, a few blank Moleskine pages, and a playlist of indie folk. I love musical theatre, black-&-white movies, and Eastern European illustration. Conversations with strangers make my day. When it rains, I make a beeline for my mug of green tea and stack of 19th-century fiction. I'm vegetarian about 98% of the time. I'm extremely awkward and rather nerdy. I love the sea. My name means 'hosanna' and I'm having the time of my life living to praise the One who set me free.

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