her budding frame
an uncomfortable fullness
nearly bursting at the seams
unable to hold it all together
rising to be free
of all that’s growing
within
peering out
with such wonder of the world
cautious
and intrigued
trying to fathom the shape, intensity
and glory
of the sun
***
her purpose, overshadowed
beneath the giants of the field
or under the pressure of big dreams
dare she wilt or reconsider?
knowing that she’s just a weed
but in whom others hold with anticipation
to share their secrets
aching for God to fill the space between
her and the heavens
-that she might soak up the sky
and hold it inside
hungrily offering
all these
twisted little layers
one by one
to the light
stretching wider
yet clinging still
to the things that make her so obvious
but the light returns a message
and speaks in
life
and it steeps down,
down
into her roots
pushing her heart up to the surface
past the confines of her walls
and for all the world to see
inadvertently, and
in her own way
in her own way
reflecting back
the shape, intensity
and glory
of the sun
***
after a while
the clock has turned
her crown now gray
with splendor
still seeking
still pushing out
beyond,
her means
her means
but waiting
to be picked
though
though
already chosen
and with a kiss of the wind
she'll release her grasp
this nakedness, baring her soul
finding that purpose
is only found
in letting go
***
and so it
multiplies
down a hillside
to future glory
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