The gardener’s daughter.

The gardener’s daughter.

150 150 poetnari

Oh weeds. Leave this here garden.


You can’t take root.

 I won’t let you.

I spot you soon as you set foot in the soil of my heart

You carry with you deception that can never grow beside the flowers that have been bred around here

Do you know how long it takes for one evergreen tree to root inside me, erect up out of me and leave fruit hanging from my ear lobes?


Of course you don’t, you little weed.

You come here as a whisper from the enemy, very easy to believe and you dare to grow beside the Gardener’s carnations and roses…

He’s placed seed in me that you will never match up to.

Oh weeds. Ugly thangs

I’ve watered some of you long enough it’s time I choked and starved you.

You’re nothing like my Gardener’s words. That’s the seed I tend to.

The words of my gardener. Their landing on this ground brings a richness to every soil grain on my terrain.

It takes time for the sprouting to happen and I’m barely standing when the petals show, always halfway to tears when the fruits elbow…

You can’t give me the wellness of heart that I was created to lavish in.


Your fruits are worry, self doubt, anxiety, comparison and every other shortcoming.

I grow weary of you by the day.

Oh weeds. Ugly thangs.

Go dig up dirt somewhere else.




The word of God is the seed. Your heart’s the soil aye? Guard that heart from anything that robs what’s tayari yours in Christ. Wellness… Peace… Love… Freedom…




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