By Kathryn J. Foster

The Plower plowed around my tent, he smiled and lingered near,
So kind he seemed, sincere and true, I found no cause to fear.
The Plower plowed along my path, I welcomed him to stay,
He used my hospitality, then turned from me away.
The Plower plowed into my heart, casting all asunder,
He robbed, deceived, my trust betrayed. Each day became a blunder.

The Plower plowed upon my neck, making long his furrows,
The Healer wept to see me scarred. He understood my sorrows.
Around, along, into, upon, wherever cut the plow,
The Healer kissed and oiled my wounds, to Him I belong now.
The Plower took, the Healer gave, each would my master be,
The Plower sought the love I gave, the Healer sought for me.

(Inspired by Psalm 129 verse 3)
To me the PLOWER is the enemy of our souls;THE HEALER is the LORD
Published in Shadows of the Dawn by the Poetry institute of Canada 2001