(brief renderings) Joe Fazio
(del) ..........Seeds Of Life...
Spring. I stared at the endless, plowed field.
Here, the headlands were even. The ditches straight and clean
and the earth rich furrows, evenly spaced.
My minds eyes pictured the horse drawn plow, as it skipped
along the ground, then finally digging in, leaving in
its wake, long, straight, beautiful furrows.
I am weary and this is the place I had
come, to recapture all that is precious
As I stood there, I thought life...love, was very
much like this plowed field.
For in my time, I too, have plowed...
the fields of life.
In the springtime of my youth, upon the anvil
of life, I forged the elements, of who I would
become. Forged, did I, the golden dreams,
among the silver lining of mortals. Careful,
as I progress, to bury that I most
cared about, safely below my furrowed
thoughts. There...they would be safe.
There, they would remain, until called upon.
Day...by day, I planted my seeds, of love,
caring and compassion. I planted His word and all
in life, that He would ask of me. Like
the sprouting of the spring planting,
so too, did my seeds begin to sprout.
So to...did my seeds grow, in the
richness, of the sunlight, of life and
I sang amid the pine trees and danced beneath
the stars, when my seeds of love...grew,
and entered me, as the food from the field.
It was time to harvest, my planting of
love. A wonderful, exciting, enchanting
crop, as none I would ever know again.
The crop was rich, producing children,
grandchildren and countless, loving memories.
I received so much...so very much. I often feared,
like the barley in the field, that had
awaited harvesting for too long, that which
I been given, would bend, under its own weight.
I resolved, to not allow this to happen.
I have nurtured my field and tendered it,
with love and caring. Like the water
that irrigated the field, I sustained the
seeds I have planted, with all the
sacrifice necessary, to make them
strong and healthy.
Can it been, that there are no new seeds
left to plant? Can it be, like the withering remains
of the leaves of fall, I too shall dry up,
crumple and disappear into the earth?
Yes, it is so. For that is life. Living.
When my time to part has come,
I will not leave with anger or regret. I will leave
with joy, gratefulness and love, for
that which He has given me.
My seeds. My field, has yielded much.
I shall remain forever thankful, for that
which I have received.
Upon my parting, I shall know the
answers...to all the questions.
Now...it seems, I am to become a
seed once again. Once again, I
shall be returned to the earth.
© Joe Fazio
(brief renderings) Joe Fazio's Other Poems
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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