The gospel reading yesterday was the parable of the sower who sows seeds on various types of ground. Only those seeds landing on good ground grow and produce fruit. I wrote a poem a while back about my desire to be good ground. Here it is:
Being Good Ground
The seed planted in good ground thrives.
It yields a hundred-fold.
But how do I become good ground?
The river gathers and deposits—
Year after year—the best soil from her banks.
Earth quakes to break apart the rock.
Then sun and wind do their part
Whittling grains of sand to add into the mix.
Clay—the fine, so moldable when wet—
Is stirred in for coherence.
Yet, without the humus, the ground is sterile.
The rotting, decomposing mess makes it whole.
Then worms and crawling, hidden things stir and boil,
Making all disparate parts
Ready to receive the seed.
Oh, the precious seed!
I want my heart to be the fertile ground
To receive and foster
That great seed of life.
Break apart my hardness.
Let your life giving waters flow
And bring the raw material of my life to settle.
Then let the fine, all permeating spirit
Hold me close together in your hand.
And, Lord, let me not shrink from welcoming
That dying, smelling excrement
Which lowly worms labor to transform.
Let me yield to this great process
And wait patiently
To accept that blessed seed.