In Becoming


Yesterday,
while bent over furrows
laden with warm, brown seeds.
I marveled at the miracle
of potential peas nestled
within tiny seed walls,
swelling upward to reach their source of light.
And now,
as I am bowed beneath
the weight of trials.
I marvel, too, at the miracle
of a potential deity
tucked within my soul,
struggling homeward to its source of Light.