I get so tired of hearing people complain about our area. It amazes me how quickly people can tear down hope and promise around them. There’s always a critic ready to spew negativity. Anyway, I wrote a poem that contrasts the critic and the cultivator.
The critic curses the land,
Damning it to an eternal doom.
Never, hopeless and unlikely
Drip from his tongue
Poisoning the streets with toxic waste.
Grim eyes see only melancholy tones
Famine, drugs and death lie at his feet.
The cultivator breaks open the earth,
Feeding it with life giving seed.
Certainty, hope and promise
Are planted with his hands
Tenderness sifts the grounds.
Bright eyes see a plethora of harvest
Abundance, fruitfulness and life expand around him.
“Death and life are in the power of the tongue, And those who love it will eat its fruit.” Proverbs 18:21 Words can tear down or they can build up. Is your vocabulary filled with life or death? How many dreams have you crushed or ignited? Let’s pour waters of hope onto a land that looks parched. Let’s drown out the negativity by showering blessings onto the land. Breathe life, nurture the downtrodden until they thrive. We have to bless our land, it’s been cursed long enough.