My heart is tired.
Beleaguered by the passing of time.
She yearns for rest in peaceful solitude,
My spirit is angry.
A warrior, she rages against the assault on her life,
Guarding the precious repositories of her strength.
My faith is tattered.
Storms of chaos have left her gasping for air,
Scattering her center across a mournful plain of despair.
My soul is weeping.
Mourning the passing of dreams stripped naked by reality,
She holds a shimmering seed of hope within her hands.
I am strong.
I will grant my heart rest and solitude.
I will choose to face and quiet the rage.
I will seek out and rebuild my faith.
I will cleanse and comfort my soul.
In the fertile ground of my life I will plant the seed.
My spirit will provide the light.
My faith will provide the shelter.
My soul will provide the nourishment.
In the garden of my life,
Born from the seed of my hope,
Tended by the nature of who I am,
Love will grow abundant,
Bearing fruit for all who have a place within my heart,
And we will be at peace.
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