There is a secret garden,

in my heart of hearts.

Where all my hopes are hidden,

 where dreams are ripped apart. 

I often shared my secrets,

with those I use to know.

But now those stay inside of me, 

a place only I dare to go. 

The roses are all faded now,

The thorns have grown so thick. 

The Ivy’s taking over,

growing round the walls and bricks. 

Walls I built to keep them out,

only now I’m locked in here.

and now my garden’s dying,

from the poison, doubts and fears. 

Where is the lily of the valley?

I need the Rose of Sharons blood. 

To heal my garden’s sickness

to wash away, with a cleansing flood. 

Just like a faithful gardener,

Jesus came to me,

He said, “Daughter, I’m your everything,”

No more Lock and Key! 

With the Balm of Gilead,

and with healing in His wings.

He took me in His arms.

He said, “You were made for greater things.” 

©2018 Marsha L. Brown