the ground is soft after a storm
prime for pulling weeds that don’t belong
it strikes me as i kneel at my flower bed
hands in dirt, removing weeds
the flower bed is like my heart
a storm has raged
anger, bitterness tried to take root
sadness an depression followed suit
pulling them like weeds
making room for love and joy to bloom
the ground is soft after a storm
some weeds more stubborn
leave my hands covered in dirt
and making marks on delicate fingers
just like the weeds inside my heart
some hurts are more deeply rooted
and yet, all weeds must go
if the flowers i want to grow
~Rachel E. Brown: July 9,2013~