Hearing the promise
Open up in yourself
Proclaiming his goodness
Epiphany felt
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)
A Million Dead Blades
Wandering into the tall grass
With shears not meant to cut
I pushed and stepped
And stepped and shoved
My direction the only thing dashed
I wandered left
And wandered right
As the weeds took over my path
They seemed to know me
As I tramped them down
I heard screaming with each
One I smashed
“It’s always the grass,
“It’s always the grass,”
One of them cried
Disappearing under my boot
“They abandoned their brothers,
“To live in the open
“Among people that cut at their roots”
I got to a clearing—the path widened out
Ahead did a tractor invade
And for the first time it hit me
For the first time it mattered
Before me,
—lay a million dead blades
(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)
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Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: June 1st, 2017 08:39
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
Only someone in tune with the earth could appreciate blades of grass, defenseless against blades of steel.
And to be so selective as to whom we nourish, only the pretty, only a certain race or color, weeding out the rest.
Could I but feel the promise, that would be comforting. Too much anxiety and fear.
Still praying hard. Thanks, A.
Kurt
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