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We won’t grow

if what we really love

is the warmth

of the dirt where we are buried

we can’t reach toward the sun

if we won’t let go of the darkness

where we want to hide

those walls that keep us safe inside

we can’t flourish like a well-watered garden

in the garden of the king

if we refuse to drink in the rain

that will end the drought where we are living

we can’t climb higher

like vines on a trellis

if we aren’t rooted

in the source of life

the only truth that can power us

we can’t bear fruit

if we would rather

fit in with the trees that can’t even be bothered to bud

the trees that are barren for a summer

and destined for pruning

***

sometimes in the losing

in the letting go

some trees will find the courage to grow

sometimes after the pain

that comes with removing

the remaining branches are filled with the brightest apples

which is why the gardener didn’t stop cutting

despite all the things we were praying

in our longing to stay the same

as we always were