Bruised Fruit

I am bruised fruit like
A peach that has fallen
From a tree onto
Hard ground and
Bruises its tender flesh
On the stones. I have fallen
Hard and long, I have
Rolled over rough
Roads and my
Skin is bruised and torn, I am
Misshapen
But I have ripened on my
Journey and now
My juice is sweet. I will be
As nectar in his hand
When he comes to me, and
Bids me give.  I have
Seeds in me that must
Cut me open in
Order to be free and
Borne upon the wind to
Chance in corners
Tall and wide where
They can split in turn,
And grow and
Ripen into root and
Shoot, so from me
A new tree will rise
And all my bruises
Will be justified, for the
Deed involved the giving
Of the self that others,
In other times, might
Taste the old
Sweetnesses that never die.
And so tonight, I cry,
For in my end is
New life begun, and in my
Giving, all the bitter harvest is
Undone.

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