Crowding Out Thorny Worries

Inside of me,
A place where wild things roam,
A flock I must shepherd,
A garden I must tend

Through storms and attacks,
Famine, entropy, growth...growth
— Is it not all growth?

Growth to be hedged and pruned,
Encouraged here, enticed there,
To be nurtured into something beautiful.

And what of these thorny worries?
I've let them grow, expecting fruit,
But they've only become a mess.

I try pruning,
But they only grow back stronger.
Instead, I'll try to crowd them out.

I'll scatter, all among them,
Little seeds of prayer, and of faith
That I'll receive the grace
To handle whatever comes, when it comes.