No Voice of My Own

I understand you now:
Earth moves and turns
by the force of our hands

all around is mine
to choose and bend
as i will even
what is known within

nothing springs forth
that is not planted
by my seed or another's
and you will only see
through who prevails

no, forgive me, it is more:
i plow over all things
not fitting my course
to achieve what i need
without destroying anything
possibly pointless weeds
primitive algae in the sea

and what is plowed over
by just the way things are,
not wicked deeds done
through caring
protection for my family
i never chose this
some things are unplanted

no, forgive me, it's not
quite right, you see this --
this you will never see:
sometimes doubts seep
between deep iron spikes
then God bends down to firm me
my strength channeling his might
set right what challenges
mine and God's need

for i know he created nothing larger
than what sits neatly in rows
rows in the fields i sew
like grassy metal more than green
spires at distances I imagine
warm stone in every season
you see? He moves, for me

and why not? he said
he would always be there
this isn't me
i just don't understand why
he never speaks