AlAnoud Writes

What if I picked the fruit of my labor,
but my heart was too bitter to savor?

What if I held what I worked to attain,
yet called it another chapter of pain?

What if the harvest was already in hand,
but I was still waiting for more from the land?

For reaping does not mean the struggle is through,
we can harvest exhausted, with more work to do.

What if I gathered what I prayed would arrive,
but my hunger for more kept the longing alive?

I picked the fruit, but could not see
that the harvest I sought had already found me.

Perhaps my heart, so accustomed to ache,
forgot that some blessings arrive in its wake.

Perhaps I was so practiced in striving and fight
that I could not recognize peace in my sight.

And maybe the cruelest truth I must learn
is that sometimes we harvest, yet never discern

that the fruit of our labor was already there,
while we kept looking elsewhere.