Grass; A Poem

by Ana Lisa de Jong

Three of the most beautiful lines:

‘He does not raise his voice;
He does not crush the weak,
or quench the smallest hope.’

So all our hopes,
though they might beat against our chest with wings,
or lie smaller than a mustard seed
hidden in the hand,
can grow in time
like the tall grass lengthening.

Can incline towards faith,
as seedlings seek out the light,
surpassing themselves
with the warmth of the sun,
and the wind
speaking over them.

Mary Oliver speaks of the Catbird,
‘common as the grass’,
who has picked his pond and made
a soft thicket of the world –
that in wonderment I consider
how good it really is

to be one of many,
in an ever stirring, breathing
mass of humanity.
Perhaps not so different
to a kingdom measured out in the grass,
from fence post to gate,

the breeze gently whispering,
the soft sun delivering a steady coverage.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
February 2020

For more poems for Ana Lisa de Jong, check out the free downloads available in our store:

• Talking About the Sun – Poetry from Nature
• Medicine for the Soul – Poetry for a Pandemic
• Ashes – Poems for Loss
• The Gate of Heaven: Poems for Contemplation
• Broken Into Wholeness; Poems for Recovery