Riverwood - The Gardener’s Prayer

I don’t preach in gilded halls Or carve my truths on granite walls I whisper hope through buried seed And trust the dirt to know my need I mend with mulch, I sing with spade I thank the worms for paths they’ve made I do not ask the roots for more— I simply open up the door ⸻ Bless the hands that pull the weeds Bless the knees that crouch for seeds Bless the quiet, slow repair This is the gardener’s prayer ⸻ I’ve seen the radish split the stone The nettle rise where none have sown I’ve watched the bitter blossom sweet And cucumbers curl at my bare feet I whisper hope through buried seed And trust the dirt to know my need “We till what hurts. We water what heals. We grow not to own, but to kneel.” ⸻ Bless the hands that touch the green Bless the work that goes unseen Bless the harvest, sparse or fair This is the gardener’s prayer ⸻ Bless the hands that pull the weeds Bless the knees that crouch for seeds Bless the quiet, slow repair This is the gardener’s prayer ⸻ Bless the hands that touch the green Bless the work that goes unseen Bless the harvest, sparse or fair This is the gardener’s prayer ⸻