Sarah is a farmer and storyteller raised in Georgia. Now, she lives in Central America where she's worked in cross-cultural ministry since 2020, which pretty much boils down to planting things, talking to people, and writing poetry on long bus rides. Her poetry has been published on Story Embers, Kingdom Pen, and Ekstasis, and you can read more of her work on her Instagram, @sarah.spradlin.
Expectation
by Sarah Spradlin
The earth in birthing is broken twice: once to bury seeds she is torn open to make room for what is barely breathing then again to multiply, she is disrupted by emerging seeds disturbing the empty air to prepare the way for a flood of feasting. I measure the distance between the breakings and the reapings through many radiant and dark hours: even as I watch the sun callus the earth against resurrection, beneath the surface she is yielding— seeds soften and swell, then break out of darkness into life. The first breaking is inevitable; the second is a miracle made no less remarkable by patient expectation. Some seeds never reach the surface a sorrow borne by soil and sower alone yet, devoting ourselves to what may be lost is perhaps the bravest thing we do and I am still surprised at the violence of love alive, willing even to receive death so that something might take root and rise.
Sheesh, Sarah. This is gorgeous.
Your imagery is beautiful! I could relate to every well chosen word and thought, especially as I am waiting for my own seeds to sprout.