Nothing is Wasted

Author Hannah Christmas

Nothing is Wasted

Hannah Christmas

Nothing is wasted in my Father's hands—
not the concepts we misunderstand, 
nor thorns and thistles threatening delicate roots.
Our gardener-hands protect the shoots
until they're strong enough to withstand 

storms and trials that swarm the land.
We band together, learning secondhand
that we alone don't make the plants bloom. 
Nothing is wasted,

and all is shared without a demand.
Our gardens of sown soil start to expand.
Then, I see green looming over my boots 
and joy takes hold more resolute.
I hear the Sun hum in pleasure and 
say, "Nothing is wasted."