Where is that purpose I felt
when I first entered this job?
Has it been stomped on by policies
and politicians,
by lack of appreciation
from those I serve?
Is it ever to return?
Will there be a springtime
in my heart
reawakening to my
joy in teaching, nurturing, leading....
Is there hope?
Dusty barren deserted land
of my mind
Just like the writer's block
on which I lay fatigued...
the ground cracks
for a seedling to sprout forth!
I feel it poke its way through
my heart,
nourished by one little raindrop
of hope....
I know it will one day bloom and
dance for joy!
For after the withering and dying winter,
regeneration returns....
and I am curious
to see what flower
comes forward this time,
as we give it another try.
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