The Word Weaver
Deb Weaver ~ Communicating God's love, grace, & truth
"Transplanted"
by The Word Weaver, Deb on February 10th, 2012

The following poem was written during the difficult time described in an earlier post, "Beauty in the Shadows." If you would like to read that, you may find it in the grief category or click here.

Being able to express my emotions into the words of this poem was a large step toward beginning to deal with them. During that time and since then, I have spent a lot of time in prayer, searching Scripture, remembering God's promises, soaking up the beauty and solace of creation, and seeking to be grateful for life's moments. Hope and joy are returning.

But in the thick of the crisis, all I could do was sob. And that's okay. Sometimes that's what's needed~to get it out, to admit it, to desperately seek the One who knows, who cares, who understands, to wait for direction and help.

(Please feel free to share both these posts with friends and loved ones who may be hurting, grieving, or feeling hopeless. A primary goal of this blog is to encourage others. I'd appreciate if you'd also include my copyright notice that follows each post; thanks for understanding!)
Photo taken in Falls Park, Greenville, South Carolina, February 2012.
"Transplanted"

Into a foreign soil
I have been transplanted by grief.
It is a cold, fearful, lonely land.
Plunged into the bitter soil of loss and pain,
my roots flinch;
I tremble and sob.

Into a foreign soil
I have been transplanted by grief.
It is a brutal, raw, crushing land.
My trunk is slammed by whirling barrages of emotion,
my roots gasp;
I stagger and sob.

Into a foreign soil
I have been transplanted by grief.
It is an unending, hostile, costly land.
Heaving my cares into the vast sky of silence and stars,
my roots gaze;
I ache and sob.

Into a foreign soil
I have been transplanted by grief.
It is a desperate, anxious, weary land.
My soul is tormented by a maelstrom of regret and worry, but
my roots remember;
I worship and sob.

Into a foreign soil
I have been transplanted by grief.
It is a forsaken, bleak, harsh land.
Yet even here, Jesus infuses the peace of His presence into the ragged heart of His child,
my roots receive;
I quiet and breathe
within His embrace.

##
Copyright 2012, The Word Weaver, Deb Weaver
Photo taken in Garden of the Gods, Colorado, November 2011.


Posted in Hope & Healing, Life Transitions, My Journey with God, Poetic Thoughts    Tagged with Grief, Sorrow, Transplants, Poetry, Pain, Worship, Night, Sky, Soil, Prayer, Transparency


8 Comments

Pam - March 2nd, 2012 at 7:52 AM
I love it and you.
The Word Weaver, Deb - March 2nd, 2012 at 8:06 AM
Thanks Pam! I love you too! Thank you for reading and commenting!
Staci - March 2nd, 2012 at 8:17 AM
it's beautiful! Just like my favorite Aunt!! :)
The Word Weaver, Deb - March 2nd, 2012 at 8:26 AM
Awww! Thanks, sweetie! You know how much I love you, right???!!!!! I do!
Shelly - March 2nd, 2012 at 8:27 AM
Thank you for sharing your heart with us!n
The Word Weaver, Deb - March 2nd, 2012 at 8:28 AM
I'm so glad you're reading the blog, Shelly! Thank you!
Dyan - March 2nd, 2012 at 10:47 PM
So glad to read this again...so much if this applies to my life over the last year on very different subjects. I have appreciated your friendship and honesty...this poem touches me.
The Word Weaver, Deb - March 3rd, 2012 at 8:30 AM
Dyan, I have also appreciated our friendship and how God has used it to encourage and support each of us! Thank you.
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