In Becoming

by Mary Jo Westenhaver

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.