Hallelujahs in the Garden Bed and Other Poems

by Deborah Rutherford

HALLELUJAHS IN THE GARDEN BEDS

1.

A dense fog pranced

through the street lanes

like he owned the place.

The only thing missing was

a top hat and coat.

Depression called my name,

like we were old friends.

My garden had run wild, 

and the weeds wanted a piece 

of this real estate, too.

Night loomed….

a train chatted in the distance…

nocturnal panic.

A wake of blackness cloaked

the Heavens as droplets

wept from the skies

and wiped away the night

for a bit of Hope

in the morning glow;

cornflower blue skies

and scarlet marigolds

at last.

In my despair:

crumpled, unstable feet,

my sanity intruded—

and in unbearable grief,

a sliver of beauty 

dripped into the crack.

A candle flickered

an invitation of Love.

2.

The sun was veiled at high noon. 

She couldn't look or bear; 

she wept agony and sorrow,

as tears watered

the daffodils and hyacinths.

The curse busted 

as the sun burst.

The entombed was empty,

and the sky was full of wonder.

3.

Northern lights bewildered 

me that night

where all the world 

watched something

God had made

in the most unexpected places.

Ribbons of violet and magenta

lifted up my chin into the midnight blue.

With childlike wonder, 

I found my Lord’s eyes

and gaze of love

dancing across the Heavens.

When was the last time I looked up?

4.

I watched from behind the door 

until I could no longer stand it.

My feet grazed the grass

with stretched-out arms

in the melody of April showers

that bloomed Hallelujahs in the garden beds—

And there I sang

and praised His name.

At last, vanquishing my depression!

At last, shining Light where it was dark

for so long!

5.

April rain

brought my garden back to life. 

His holy reign

brought my darkness back into Light.

So, we dressed in our Sunday best that week:

Good Friday was hard,

and Saturday was silent.

But Sunday?

Ah, now,

isn't that what we live for?


HOLY SOIL

“For the Lord will comfort Zion, He will comfort all her waste places; He will make her

 wilderness like Eden, And her desert like the garden of the Lord; Joy and gladness will be found in it, thanksgiving and the voice of melody.”

–Isaiah 51:3 NKJV

My bare toes squirm 

in the damp, warmed soil,

and I am entranced 

by a rose-blushed lily.

Gardenias drift by, 

and I dash 

to taste a honeysuckle

under the soft glow 

of a springtime day

with innocent blue skies.

Oh, Heaven, it’s joy I feel!

I wander in my garden, 

the one outside of Eden, 

and before Heaven, 

where tears spill into the soil, 

and these wounds of mine—

the ones of loss, betrayal, 

regret, and shame— 

become buried seeds 

in Your holy soil 

to bloom one day 

as flowers do.

What was meant to bury me

You used to bloom me:

a rare flower belonging to a King

where gardens transpose

man's tangles and thistles.


IN HIS GARDEN

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; 

You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness.” –Psalm 30:11 NKJV

In the lush garden, 

I ate from a tree; 

the shiny things 

seemed pleasant to me; 

the hissss louder than the hymn.

I found myself naked, 

ashamed and hid 

behind the fig leaves. 

My Creator swathed me 

in coats of skin 

and wept to banish me—

the garden gates guarded 

by fiery cherubs. 

I entered the fallen world 

outside of Eden 

to toil the earth

and have seeds in my belly, too. 

Yet, I was a bruised reed 

held gently in His hands; 

He would redeem me 

with bruises, the same.

The garden was never too far 

as my Creator prayed—

blood beading on His brow—

to take away the cup. 

But He drank it anyway 

one late eve in Gethsemane.

He perished on the Cross, 

and droplets of lilies from the valley 

flowed from His mother's eyes

as she scented His body

and said goodbye.

He lay in the garden's sepulcher,

linen clothing on stone,

in what seemed like an eternity.

But three days later,

the woman came early 

to find He had arisen—

To make pools in my wilderness

and straighten my crooked paths.

To sweep me up into Heaven,

a new creation in Him—

like Him—

and set my feet to dancing,

His eternal daughter,

a new celestial vessel 

made of Heaven dust

from His Holy Ground.  




DEBORAH RUTHERFORD

Deborah Rutherford, a writer and poet, explores themes of faith, nature, healing, and grace. She is the founder of the Behold-Her Beauty Blog & Podcast. These poems will be in her upcoming poetry collection, Prodigal Daughter: Poems of Light for Lost Ones, published by The Way Back Books. Her published works are in the book Unexpected Blessings: 40 Days of Discovering God’s Best as a contributor and the following publications: The Way Back to Ourselves Literary Journal, Vessels of Light Journal, Calla Press Literary Journal, The Truly Co. Magazine, Austur Magazine, Aletheia Today Magazine, and Prosetrics Literary Magazine.

At heart, Deborah is an encourager who loves sharing her many stories, singing old hymns, and taking long walks in the woods, where she finds inspiration and peace.

You can find her at www.deborahrutherford.com, https://deborahrutherford.substack.com and Instagram @deborahrutherfordwrites.


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Song of the Branch