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By Lara Niedermeyer

…and I know what I want you to be. – Hugh B. Brown

The field needs readying:
my heart is not prepared
to grow good crops.

There is no room—as yet—
for seeds which will yield to
heat and rain, splitting their
coats and rooting as they
reach for air.

And so God sends the
plowshare; the very blade
whose bite will furrow
everything in me, dig
until I can give space.

This sharpened edge
pushes aside hardened
earth (and me) until a trench
replaces my smooth comfort,
my reckless surety and
easy grooves.

It is not painless, and I
wonder at what the
agony will yield at reaping.
There is no clue to what
will spring from that we
plant in darkness.

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About Lara Niedermeyer

Lara Niedermeyer writes to savor and connect. Growing up in Port Townsend, Washington, she was surrounded by art in all its forms and the wild coast of the Pacific. This foundational experience and landscape continue to shape her creative choices. Raised on the poems of Carol Lynn Pearson (whose books she snuck off her mother’s shelf and hid in her suitcase when leaving home), she revels in poetry which is both mystical and plain-spoken. Joining Segullah in 2009, she previously served as Poetry Editor and on the Poetry Board. Her poems have been published in the anthology “Seasons of Change,” Segullah, and read aloud for the “Words Fall In” podcast. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her family, where she rents vintage dishes for events, and regularly teaches writing workshops.

2 thoughts on “Unknown”

  1. I have been there. That is the essence of faith, isn’t it? That it is what is needed, that all can be consecrated to our good. And I loved the line about “rooting as they reached for air.” I saw it just not as sending roots down but as rooting, like cheering.


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