Of Rainbows and Mud

(Part 4 of 4 in the “Grief in a Season of Joy” series)

Why do we never enter
the dripping, wild woods
As the rain starts to fall?
We fear the wet, the mud
The fallen leaves’ decay
Never noticing the fragrance
of new life they exude.

In our concern for comfort
Our endless quest for beauty
We do not look in such a way
As to see the foundational
Workings of new life
Leaf litter on the damp clay
Fallen timber awash with rain

It seems to us dirty
And beneath our notice
As the crusty lichen
Creeping creatures
And mysterious fungi
Harken to the Gardener’s call
“Make way! I am doing something new!”

We would rather wait for
The downpour to let up
And the drizzle to fade
After all, the rainbow is easier
To love than the mud
(Though they both come
From the same life-giving rain)

But when a drenching curtain
Seems to close the heavens
And eyes cannot be lifted skyward
We can always find new life
In the muddled rivulets at our feet
In the earthy, wild places
Deep in the dripping woods

© 2019 Jacqueline Tisthammer. All Rights Reserved.

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