lent

winter-ravaged,
it lays in stillness
surely abandoned --
warmth and care long gone from this place

wind-whipped,
and dressed in debris --
the remains of all that once was
collect around my feet

last season's failures
are all that is left,
at once mock and remind me
of where we have been

Cold-cracked
weakness revealed
with exacting cruelty --
the gaping wound oozing fatigue

But this is the place where hope is born.

Here, in the spent soil
is where the seed for new life is planted,
rising from a place
of silence
and disarray
and failure
and brokenness.

Here, in this place, lays true life.