Strangely Dark

"Tears are shaped like seeds." - Joel Ansett

When times are strangely dark
in deep and inner places.
When faith is faith and gripping
grace with stark and pain-pulled faces. 

When roots hold-hard the soil
‘gainst tempest winds and ripping. 
When mid-spring winter’s roaring
grip is slowly, slowly slipping.

Where roots hold-hard the soil
‘gainst tempest winds and flooding.
Where heavy toil and cutting cold
hold and wait for budding, 

then the cellar’s breath of life,
then the Hunter’s two-edged knife,
then the coffin’s bursting light
might.