A Poem for Feeling Stuck

I feel stuck in this stage of my life

Where all of the feelings of toil and strife

Birth a whisper of fruit on its way

That the plow was dropped

At the first hint of frost

And this seed hoped on the promise of Harvest

Now the Winter has passed

With its cold grip of death

That has killed everything gone astray

I know it was needed

My life is a mess

But God, nothing will grow in its place!

Spring has not sprung

The earth reeks of rot

The worms feast on the waste of winter

The carcasses of the trees stand humbled

Yet the evergreen is still ever green

But Oh God nothing else is

This dirt feels like muck and mire and I’m afraid You forgot to pull me out.

The soil seems ripe and the nutrients are there

But God hear my prayer

I’m scared that my fruit will not grow

And I want to believe the seed will sprout

But Lord hear my doubt, is there even a seed in the ground?

Was I scattered on the road?

Or choked by the thorns?

Lord, if You are the Sower

Why won’t anything grow?

This purgatorial existence

Feels more like a punishment than pleasure

For this You bled and died

With the triumphant cry of Tetelestai!

And yet Jesus, I don't see your triumph

There is no blossom, not even a leaf

And Lord, I’m dying to feel

That You still care for this seed

You have said You will finish the work

But it looks like You forgot to start

I’m wrestling with doubt

Inside of my heart

I worry that my faith might be microscopic

Compared to even a mustard seed

In this dirt I’ve heard whispers of something called clouds

And yet I don’t know if my faith is strong enough to believe they are up there

This dirt is my reality

It smothers me

And yet Lord please fix my eyes on the King of the Sky

I worry that this dirt is actually a tomb

And I overslept the rock being rolled

That when You said Awake O Sleeper

I hit snooze on the alarm

And instead this darkness consumes me

But this I believe

That the Creator creates

Out of nothing He brings life

And if there is nothing in the ground

Than maybe bring my fruit ex nihilo