As the pestle meets the mortar
clanging brass against colder bowl ~
It crushes what must be powdered,
Fragmenting the unshelled whole.
Lord, in your hands the seed is planted
to other soil I dare not fly ~
My very life I lay, unmoving,
Crush me, crush me, ‘til I die!
Beneath the shadow of seeming desertion
darkening clouds enhance the gloom ~
Father, according to your mercies,
water me now until I bloom.
And when the flower is fully blossomed
beauty to flee its form so soon ~
Crush now my petals ‘til they flourish
with the fragrance of your perfume.