If God is my elm’s great roots
burrowing deep for water
but, as branches seek sun,
might also want light,
and so slowly begin rooting upward
shouldering loose the path stones
through the garden
laid long ago and meant to stay,
now making my path impossible;
Then
I accept God’s judgment
and leave the stones raised
like unsettled grave markers
to remind me that God
may move slowly to undo
all my familiar stepping stones
telling me to start new paths
with nothing more to mark my way
than the trail
of my own faint dewprints
on the grass.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
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