The Beautiful Ones Are Not Yet Born

Kneeling down in the brown patch

I feel the sun's warmth on my back

I plant small seeds of  hope 

And knead my dreams into the rough soil

The ground looks so desolate

The soil feels grainy between my fingers

It is watered with the moisture from my eyes

Blending with the sweat forming beads on my brow

I bring some of the earth up to my nose

It has a pungent smell

The pretty flowers  have not yet bloomed

Only the plain peek through

The wilting and weak ones

And still, I know

Something new will spring up from the ground

Destiny is nestled in the deep layers of the dirt

Eventually it will take root and grow

Burst through the cracks in the clay

Like a rose blossoming

Embracing its splendor in a field of parched grass

The waiting begins

Time is transient

The earth greets the constant sleep and wake of the sun

But the True Vine knows best

He looks beyond the arid land

And sees a vast garden blanketed in many hues

Burgeoning with greens and oranges and blues

Then he whispers softly in the summer breeze

Keep watching and waiting and sowing

Because he knows

The beautiful ones are not yet born

And He makes everything beautiful in His own time

So..I got the title for this from Ayi Kwei Amah's novel about post-independent Ghana, The Beautyful Ones Are Not Yet Born.   

T.Y Bello- Greenland