Second Sowing

Second Sowing

For whom

The milk ungiven in the breast

When the child is gone?

For whom the love locked up in the heart

That is left alone?

That golden yield

Split sod once, overflowed an August field,

Threshed out in pain upon September's floor,

Now hoarded high in barns, a sterile store.

Break down the bolted door;

Rip open, spread and pour

The grain upon the barren ground

Wherever cracks in clod is found.

There is no harvest for the heart alone;

The seed of love must be

Eternally

Resown.

-Anne Lindbergh

"As long as our pain and wisdom and lessons are locked up in the heart or hoarded high in barns, they remain sterile and unfertile. To grow in the midst of difficulties we must rip open the bags of grain and seeds and pour them out wherever we see fertile ground."