Let the Beet Speak


The beet is a strange prophet.  Speaking only
in whisper, its dirt-tipped tongue ancient
as air.  Hold it in your hand, gnarled taproot
yearning for home, and you’ll understand
what I mean.  Listen, the small song it sings
is for you, like the answer
to every question ever asked:

You’re more than the mud
you were formed from.
More than body, blood, and bone.
Believe me, I was there
when He made you, His love
like rain, like sun. 


About Amy Woschek Schmidt

little moon hoping to reflect the Light. writer of stories. mama to sparrow. wife to schmidty. wholy redeemed by the Holy One, Jesus Christ.
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