letter to a villager

i see you.
getting dirt under your nails,
dust in the hair,
holes in the trousers,
sweating under the uninhibited sun.
a bleeding heart in a faraway land.
i noticed.

i see you.
secret smiles,
small wins,
sighs of relief.
reaches and touches.
enamored with a land not your own.
i noticed.

i see you.
daily exposed, unable to hide,
yet never really seen.
wearing a shiny, dusty coating,
without anyone close enough
to peer behind.
i noticed.

i see you.
persistently positive,
genuinely generous,
clinging to a gritty gratitude.
grounded by something outside yourself.
strong and rooted,
yet swaying and contorting.
burying bruises and breaks under the surface,
a treasure in an empty field.
i noticed.

i see you.
feet in the soil.
head churning all the gears.
heart fighting for a heavy pump.
hiding and ducking from something,
seeking and searching for someone.
a relentless cyclical wrestle,
with seasons and time’s significance.
i noticed.

i see you, there.
the thoughts and feelings,
stacked to hills and mountains,
one sheet of paper at a time.
those summits you make you may never reach.
those peaks you’ll climb
for the rest of your days,
yet a fearless mountain climber
i’m making of you,
you’ll see.

i know, i see.
so many seeds sewn,
so many water buckets filled.
will anything good come from this soil?
will anything good come from this toil?
greater things, so many greater things.
you’ll see.

i know, i see.
there’s roots plunging downwards,
there’s shoots fighting upwards.
just dirty for now,
yet fruit on the horizon.
you’ll see.

i know, i see.
there’s purpose in this process,
there’s reason in this season,
there’s intention in this tension.
hands of the potter accessed,
you’ll see.

i see a potent shaping,
i see an intimate forming,
i see beauty that is,
and more will be.
you’ll see.

i know you,
ya know?
i’ll show you,
come and see.