Hope (+1)

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)