You ripen in your own time: A poem about waiting

Dear lovelies

Does the waiting season feel fruitless and long?

Do you begin to wonder whether you are forgotten in it all?

This is forming part of a prophetic poetry series that I will be working on. In one of my many morning chats with God, I felt the spirit impress this image of grapes on vine clustered together and their collective fear of being forgotten or cast away, as though harvest time was never coming for them.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

They believe they are too battered and bruised to be used.

As though the promise of new wine, rich, rare, full-bodied is a distant dream that they dare not hope for. Their hoping has felt like a burden.

In the same way, it can often feel like our breakthrough has been bypassed; as we find ourselves hunkering down for another season of hoping in hibernation.

Fear not dear one. For there is one who goes before you, behind you and beside you. God wants you to know that His timing is perfect, He is never too late to deliver.

You are brave and beautiful, the fruits of your labour are not wasted. New wine is coming. Keep casting your eyes to all things above and be ever expectant.

With tender hands that hold time,

he touches bleeding hearts on a vine,

some are bruised and beaten on the vine clustered

together in terror, fearful of being pried apart.

Tense and taut standing to attention, on high alert.

For the harvest hangs heavily,

an impending wait that drains the damson,

dregs that dampen spirits in perpetual search.

They ask ‘when will it be my time?’

This ripening can feel like ruin,

spoiling seasons upon seasons

surrendering to the sun,

hopeful that next year they will be up.

Bewildered but not done, they cast their cares above,

a remedy for their reality, a pouring of pleas and petitions

to the One who provides.

A promise to preserve, his perfect mercy abounds with plenty

in reserve.

A pressing for purpose, He meets us where we are.

Don’t hasten the harvest, just come as you are

and I will give you rest under Heaven’s stars.

Though you wither, wonder, wail and wait

at the right time I will raise you up

in a crystal glass to celebrate-

a toast to your trust in my vineyard of valour.

New wine is coming, let us gather.

With Love & Prayers

Georgie x