Show me where the flowers grow
where the garden hides
beneath shrouds of fear.
Show me rainbows in raindrops
music in the sound of flies
tears in the eye of the sentry.
Show me beneath the
soil and dirt of forgotten lives
behind blank eyes
a dream of white snow on mountain tops.
Show me that this sacred garden is mine
that I, too, may plant the seeds
that I may lift the shovel and not weary
that I may let the flowers come.
James T. Hubbell
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