Sacred Touches

dry seeds scatter
from my hand into the wind
one clings
as if to say there is in me
something yet to be
~Jeanne Emrich

Screen shot 2015-01-21 at 5.02.41 PM

Here in a quiet and dusty room they lie,
Faded as crumbled stone or shifting sand,
Forlorn as ashes, shrivelled, scentless, dry –
Meadows and gardens running through my hand.
In this brown husk a dale of hawthorn dreams;
A cedar in this narrow cell is thrust
That will drink deeply of a century’s streams;
These lilies shall make summer on my dust.
Here in their safe and simple house of death,
Sealed in their shells, a million roses leap;
Here I can blow a garden with my breath,
And in my hand a forest lies asleep.
~Muriel Stuart

Screen shot 2015-01-21 at 5.26.57 PM

See how seeds, that Autumn winds send,
And throughout Winter neglected lay,
Uncoil two little green leaves at one end,
With tiny root at the other…

View original post 79 more words

About osarobohenry

Born again christian, father, husband, brother, friend who love learning and reading more about the goodness, mercy, peace, love, faithfulness and protection of God. A peace lover. I fellowship with Prophetic Resurrection Ministry International - London, United kingdom .

2 responses »

  1. Thank you for much for reblogging my post! Blessings and peace to you! 🙂

    Like

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