Poems that reflect on inspiration and insight
On Returning to Writing
Too long, I cried. Too long!
Beneath the ground
I’ve left this treasure
Where it could not be found
Or cause displeasure.
In other ways
I thought to please
But found no ease
Like bulbs in winter through the snow
Began to grow
Renewed desire in tender shoot
Not dead but dormant, taking root,
And drawing from its sweet supply
A richness broad and deep and high
God-given without measure.
For child, you said, You see I give
Not for destruction but to live
As you draw from me
That what you have others might see
And what you learn others might know
Then feeding from it start to grow,
Breaking the bonds that hold them till,
Conformed in pattern to my will,
Their lives take on the form and grace
Of leaf and flower each in place
And, each in season, bud and fruit,
Seeds without number taking root.
For life I give no tomb can hold
But multiplies a thousandfold
The storehouse of my treasure.