In the Dirt . . .

In the dirt, she waited

With worms and crawling creatures

Covered up and smothered

Were all her sparkling features

But tucked away from sunlight

And choked of proper air

She held a dormant treasure

Completely unaware

For no one ever told her

That she was born a seed

And so she took her place in life

As but a lowly weed.

But deep beneath the muck and mire

Love had found her still

And loosed the soil that captive held

A purpose yet fulfilled

It could’ve yanked her free from threads

Of roots which held her down

But chose instead from there on high

To stoop its knee to ground

While toiling in the same dirt

She’d worn for all her life

Love drew her out with nourishment

Of water, breath and light

Now slowly, she emerges

From the pit of bitter Hell

As Love sings ever sweetly

Of the seed He knows so well

And though she’s been cut open

And all has been exposed

What once was called a worthless weed

Is now Love’s priceless rose.