Vineyard Vision and Other Poems
by Hayley Rawnsley
VINEYARD VISION
This is a prayer for revival
in a city of lost angels,
where palm trees bow
and cracked cement cries out
to waves of glory flowing
into endless tides of devotion.
Each silent signpost
pointing to its Creator,
who lovingly plants and waits
for dreams to awaken
the hearts of prodigals
searching for their stories,
driven out by ambition
now wandering home.
What I deemed a desert
you declared a vineyard long ago.
SACRED SPRING
The heat blazed on
through mid-October
leaves baked
beneath the smoky sun,
reminding me
of revival’s embers
that burned holes
in my soul.
Winter froze the wounds
like dormant seeds
in hardened soil,
trapped in bitterness
but waiting
for hope
to break through.
Then Spring came—
so sacredly mundane.
And as I listened
to birds and inhaled
words of grace,
like sweet orange blossoms,
you nursed me
back to faith.
FRESH COAT
Hidden in the hallways of my heart
sits a discarded painting,
its colors faded and details buried
beneath cheap varnish,
brushed over the years
to blend in and become
the greatest chameleon you’d ever seen.
Before the final coat could ever dry
critics were all too quick
to nitpick the odd strokes
and clashing hues
that at first I saw as strangely beautiful,
before I learned to hate.
For years I wandered away from the original,
wondering, “Who was the painter who made a work like me?”
Then one day I met the master artist,
when my soul was ripped from its frame.
My heart—a broken canvas.
Restoration cost us
his blood and my tears
to mend an abandoned masterpiece,
stripping off layers of shame,
mixing fresh pigments of hope,
until every dull surface and chipped crevice
was unrecognizable,
shining vibrantly.
Rebirth.