Tilling the Hearts of All Men

Brock Tully

founder of the KindActs Movement

"Inch by inch
and row by row,
we will make our garden grow...."

[We sang this song often at the coffeehouse, smiling at each other, loving the growth and sharing we found there, in this warm safe fellowship of gentle souls. Three young B'hai men sang a song about turning guns to ploughs that would "till the hearts of all men". 

I tended a real garden, then, that took up my whole backyard, in order to feed my four hungry kids. But the real growth and healing took place in my heart, at the coffeehouse, where my life turned from pain and trauma onto a kinder, gentler path.]

I had walked across the frozen wastelands 
of Siberia,
emotions icebound 
against the possibility of pain,
but, from the moment I opened the door
and walked into the sunshine
of the coffeehouse,
my petals began to unfurl
and love, music, laughter and safety
tilled the soil 
of my thirsting heart.

Those gentle, peaceful beings
nurtured my spirit
with love,
loved me until I could begin
to love myself,
healed me from the past
and unfurled a future
more limitless 
than I had ever dared 
to dream.

"You must know you're a healer,"
Brock told me,
towards the end.
He had stayed an extra year
until I was strong enough
for him to go.
He had a world to inspire,
a thousand miles to travel,
a million dreams to inflame.

I ran the coffeehouse 
for a little while more,
but then it was time to let it go,
to move on, myself,  to other fields,
and other gardens.

This time, I was the one, 
singing the song
that encouraged others 
to heal,
to grow
and to dream.

posted for Poetry Jam's prompt: Flowers 
My poem is more about gardening than flowers. But I remember my petals slowly unfurling in the warmth of that wonderful place, and so, in a way, it is about flowers too.