Sometimes the harvest comes early .
(I see you lettuce!).
Sometimes it seems like it will never come at all.
You carefully prepare.
Spend all your energy in planning.
Sweat.
Bruise.
Bleed.
Ache.
Get just filthy.
Fight off intruders.
Cry for the things you’ve lost.
Try to learn from the failures.
And think it’s over.
But.
Grace.
Things that are not visible to you
There when you need them.
A call can be a lifeline.
Texts remind you you are seen.
Sometimes the harvest is there all along.
Nourishment provided to give you strength to go on.
These- baby beets and carrots from our garden.
Part of our meal of today
as snow coats the ground.
Every day our actions plant seeds for the future.
Someday I’m the encourager
Offering strength
Other days my need is met by others.
May your harvest always be joyful
May your blessings always be in season.
-
Comments always welcomed.
About the Creator
Judey Kalchik
It's my time to find and use my voice.
Poetry, short stories, memories, and a lot of things I think and wish I'd known a long time ago.
You can also find me on Medium
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Six Feet Under
Buried alive. What a horrible way to go. Yazz lay there, in her own thoughts. What else could she do? She was hungry, thirsty, tired, mentally, and physically exhausted, and more than anything, she was bored. She hoped she would die of boredom before anything else, anything else would've been more painful. Like many people had, she and her friends had talked about what they reckon the worst ways to die were, it was a morbid subject, but it came up every now and again. Yazz had always been one to argue her point on drowning, others had mentioned burning alive, slowly and painfully bleeding to death, hung drawn and quartered, and being starved to death. It was strange that none of them had considered being buried alive, it had never come up. But now, she was thinking back to those conversations her and her friends had had, how could they have not thought about it? It took a lot longer than the others, you were completely confined, you couldn't move or do anything, you just had to wait, until your body was physically unable to support a life system anymore, which could take up to four days. Four! By far the longest out of all of them. She recounted some of these conversations just to try and pass the time, anything to pass the time. It was difficult to know how much time had passed since she had been underground, it was difficult to know anything. There were many things that Yazz didn't know, she didn't know where she was, she didn't know how she'd got into the coffin, she'd just woken up there. Yazz also didn't know what time it was, or even what day it was, she guessed at Tuesday, it was Sunday evening when she'd been buried alive, intentionally, and although it had felt like weeks had passed, she was still alive, which means she hadn't died from dehydration, and therefore it couldn't have been more than four days.
By Liam Storma day ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Amen.
Your carrots and beets are so wonderful! Loved your poem!